


A Lightness

by FancyKid



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - A Song of Ice and Fire, Alternate Universe - Game of Thrones Fusion, Battle, Canon Divergence - Red Wedding, Canon Divergence - The Battle of the Blackwater, Duty, F/M, Falling In Love, Family, Inspired by Game of Thrones, Lemons, Love, Meringue her lemon pie, Politics, Protectiveness, Shaking the lemon tree, Siblings, Slow Burn, Tension, Travel, Unrequited Love, War, Wilderness, Winterfell, direwolves, lemoncake, little bird, making lemonade, sansan, slooowwwwest of burns, the hound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-03-31 05:29:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 94
Words: 245,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3966166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancyKid/pseuds/FancyKid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sandor never left during the Battle of the Blackwater.  Stannis was defeated and killed. Robb returned to Winterfell to take back his home.  He married Roslin Frey and there was no Red Wedding.  Joffrey did not die at his wedding. Robb waited for the right opportunity to take Joffrey down.  For Sansa, there was only waiting.  Waiting for someone to take her from King's Landing... waiting for the rest of her life to begin.</p>
<p>All characters, and their universe, belong to George R.R Martin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sansa

 

She thought she had heard enough screams, sounds of torture and death being Joffrey’s hostage over the years. She certainly didn’t expect to hear them outside the barred door of the black cell to which she was currently confined.

A girl of seventeen, Sansa Stark was immune to any kind of violence. She'd seen bellies split open and innards slipping out, arms sliced off of their shoulders, throats slit and tongues pinched out of mouths. After seeing her own father’s head being taken from his shoulders, nothing affected her like when she was a girl. She no longer balked. She no longer flinched. She no longer smiled.

Sansa Stark had been forced to harden her skin. She knew never to show an emotion on her face. When she finally realized that it was seeing her cry and scream that made Joffrey continue his torment, she stopped reacting at all. It had been difficult at first, not to cry out as she was beaten, but she quickly learned to bite her tongue. Joffrey soon lost interest and Sansa made sure never to go back to that frightened little girl that was so easy to torture.

Her original goal was to hide her emotions around Joffrey. She learned that it was easier to hide herself away. This behavior soon creeped into other areas of her life. She would usually see Margaery every few days after they were married. Margaery filled the time with stories of gossip about her cousin’s trysts and love lives. It was easier with Tyrion. She and her husband spent as little time together as possible. After Lord Tywin had died, the pressure to have children was lifted and soon enough, it seemed as though Joffrey and Cersei had completely forgotten about them all together. After Margaery became pregnant, gave her king a prince of his own, Sansa barely saw her anymore. Neither Sansa nor Tyrion were privy to the inner workings of the seven kingdoms any longer. She did not know what was going on with the war that her brother tirelessly waged out there in the world. She and her husband were now just two pawns set aside until they would become of use again. It seemed as though no one cared about their comings and goings. Still, having found out how to sneak Tyrion out of their rooms early on in the marriage, the couple felt no reason to stop their nightly routine. It fit them both well enough. Sansa got the bed to herself and Tyrion - well, she didn’t exactly know where Tyrion went off to every night.

But it was these times, when she was alone, at night in the dark of her rooms that the fear and terror she felt deep inside bubbled up to the surface. The visions of death, mutilation and torture that she had witnessed would creep behind her eyes, refusing to give her the mercy of sleep. She never went to bed without the light of a candle to soften the darkness. On the rare occasion that Sansa was able to sleep through the night, it was ever fitful and riddled with nightmares or horrors both real and imagined; her father’s head on a spike, the man who tried to attack her in the streets, Joffrey’s sneer as she was beaten again and again. Even though the nights were torturous, Sansa considered this time alone to be the best part of the day. This was her life now, and she had accepted it long ago.

Gone were the days that Sansa hoped her brother would come to save her. Gone were the dreams of Knights in shining armor coming to rescue her. Sansa lost that child's dream years ago. Sandor Clegane was to blame for that. He was still a member of Joffrey's Kingsguard. Sansa supposed she was to blame for that.

It was night, it must have been two days ago, that this mundane life Sansa had gotten used to was interrupted. She was sleeping, dreaming, when her door was broken in. She immediately thought of Tyrion. They were found out. Someone had seen him leaving. Before she knew it, two Lannister guards had thrown a sack over her head and dragged her kicking and screaming from her bed in naught but her nightshift.

“What has happened? Where are you taking me?” Sansa demanded of them. But they would not answer. She tried to picture where they were going, taking a mental note of the twists and turns they made, but there were soon too many that she had lost track. She heard a commotion at every turn. Fearful women, anxious men yelling orders, the unmistakable sound of a sword being pulled from a scabbard. _What is going on? Is someone attacking the city?_ Her heart fluttered. _Robb?_ No. She could not allow herself that hope. She had to focus on the matter at hand, which involved these men taking her further and further down flights of stairs.

Only a few moments later, the sounds and the movement was over. Sansa felt the sack removed from her face, but the world she opened her eyes to was no less dark. _No. Not here._

“NO! Please! Don’t leave me here!” She screamed. She heard the lock close on the door. She followed the noise and felt along the barred wooden door, locking her into one of the black cells.

Sansa learned soon that screaming was of no use. She crept along the walls, whimpering as she stepped her bare feet in an unknown mess, and kicked away filthy rats. She guessed that her cell was about eight feet on all sides. She tried to calm herself by counting. _Surely Tyrion or Margaery will find a way to help me._ After only a few hours, she was unable to continue counting the seconds. Soon she lost all sense of time. That is when the darkness finally consumed her. She found what she hoped was a clean corner and slid down against the wall. Her hands shook as she pulled her knees to her chest. All of the things that kept her up at night were starting to encroach upon her worried mind. With no candle, no light, there was no escaping them. She saw Lady, her beautiful soft coat tainted with her own blood. Her father’s head rolling on the ground. The men who tried to pull her from her horse, succeeding. She imagined Arya being beaten, tortured and butchered. Bran, Rickon, Robb, Mother, even Jon. These are the things that kept her up at night. The things she saw happening to other people at the hand of the gracious King Joffrey, happening to the ones she truly loved. Sansa tried to slow her breathing, but it was useless on her own. In times like these, when the nightmares were this horrible, she couldn’t help herself. She began to think of the one memory that she rarely allowed herself to consider.

Sansa remembered that night like it was yesterday. The green light of the wildfire burning outside her window brightened her whole room; the room that seemed to shrink once Sansa noticed just who was sharing the space with her. Sansa remembers the smell of him. The stink of sweat, smoke and someone else’s blood radiated throughout the room. _He wanted to take me with him, but he took his song instead._ Even to this day, she can still feel the uneven surface of his face under her fingers, the wetness of blood and tears. She can still hear her voice after she stopped singing. _Don't leave. Please._ She didn't know why she said it. Even now, she couldn’t answer herself that question. She remembers how he blinked, released her and stepped away. Whatever trance he was in was broken, and he was the Hound again. He left without another word. The next morning, he was back at the side of his king managing the clean-up of the city as if nothing had happened. That was over two years ago. It always seemed to Sansa that he _thought_ nothing had happened. She knew he was drunk. Perhaps he just didn’t remember. Beyond finding themselves in situations where they had needed to address one another, they never spoke, never looked at each other in the eye. Except for one night a few months ago…but she wouldn’t think of that. Not now.

Sansa continued to calm herself, breathing in deeply, imagining the rough feel of his skin under her fingers. She never understood why, but this seemed to be the only memory that consoled her troubled mind.

Sansa soon lost all sense of time and succumbed to the darkness. She had woken from her nightmares twice and there was still no water or food for her. That is when she heard the screams. She could hear steel clashing, men fighting and dying just mere feet away.

She heard footsteps getting closer, fast and pounding down the passage. Stopping right at her door. Sansa got to her feet. Her head spun, but she remained standing. They were beating at the door. She began to shake. _What could possibly be happening?_ The door broke down, light from the torch engulfed the room, momentarily blinding her.

“It's her!” The man shouted down the hall. "It's Sansa Stark!"

More footsteps pounded down the hall, a new man entered, and stepped closer to Sansa. She backed away toward to wall behind her. Who are these people?

“My lady!” He clearly noticed her fear. "It's alright. You're alright now, don't be afraid."

"What do you want? Who are you?" she asked, her voice weak with lack of use.

"King Robb has taken the city. It's over. The war is won."

"Oh." Sansa breathed. And the floor came up to meet her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first fanfic! I realized that I wanted more substance from what I had been reading and decided to try and write my own. I made Sansa a little older, don't hate me. I have the rough drafts of a few more chapters so I will have them up soon. I have a map in my head of where this thing is going. It is probably going to be pretty long because I can't help myself. I plan on being finished with it before September. I also plan on making a series to follow it and I am really excited! I would love to hear what you think about it! (Be gentle!) I will probably respond to everyone who comments just because I am so excited!
> 
> Update: Also I would just like to add that this fic isn't going to be 100% accurate in terms of some details whether it's geography or titles or what not. Just hope you all can stick it out and enjoy the story for what it is! And for me, it's just fun! ENJOY! And thank you for reading!
> 
> Another Update: At one point I wrote in the notes that I would be done with this within a month. As of 7/8/15 I am on chapter 71 and not yet close to being done. So I lied. But didn't feel like going through all the chapters to find the one in which I told this lie! Ok bye. ENJOY!


	2. Chapter 2

Sansa

 

Birds. There were birds chirping. The lazy flapping of heavy curtains in a light breeze. The hum of a familiar tune close by her ear. A hymn. A hymn to the mother. The voice was familiar as well, but she just couldn't place it.

Sansa opened her eyes, slowly. The room was bright, windows open and curtains pulled back to let in the sun. The sun. How long has it been since she'd seen the sun!

Her eyes took in the rest of the room. A bedroom. One she had never seen before. She was tucked into soft, white sheets on a large featherbed. Sansa's eyes followed her ears to the sound of the familiar hymn. The woman's eyes were down cast, watching her hands as they busied with some embroidery work. She noticed the shape of her face, such a pretty complexion, but riddled with cracks and valleys that only age or stress can carve into a woman's face. Her hair, long, down, half braided in the northern fashion. The color wasn't as she remembered, too much grey. But still so like her own.

"Mother?"

Catelyn's hands froze and her sewing fell into her lap and then onto the floor as she stood and rushed over to her daughter.

"Sansa!"

The Lady Stark climbed onto the bed and wrapped her arms around her beloved daughter. Neither woman could help the tears that fell shamelessly from their eyes. They stayed there, holding onto one another for what seemed like an eternity, but even when Catelyn let go, Sansa felt that it was nowhere near long enough.

"Tell me. Everything." Sansa begged of her mother.

How could she cover two years within one moment? She tried as best she could. Sansa learned that Robb had returned to Winterfell after Theon had taken it. After he cut off Theon’s head, he regrouped at Winterfell. After the tireless searches, there was still no sign of either Bran or Rickon. Robb and his men took the time they needed to plan the swift attacks that would pummel the Lannister armies once and for all. They came south, stopping at the twins for Robb's wedding to Roslin Frey. He left his wife there, safe, and with child. Robb and his men quickly fought their way to King’s Landing. The siege hadn't lasted nearly as long as they were expecting. Only about two days, which explains the length of time Sansa was locked away. Robb was now waiting on word from Daenerys Targaryen. Catelyn claimed that Robb had no desire to rule over all seven kingdoms.

“We’ve heard news that things are not going well for Daenerys in Meereen. She may be willing to accept Robb’s offer to come and claim the remaining six kingdoms for her own. It could take weeks for a reply, and even longer for her to come, if that is what she decides.”

When her mother finished telling her all, Sansa was aware of a few things; her brothers and sister were still lost. There was no stark in Winterfell, and Robb was now the only King in Westeros.

She still had so many questions. "Tyrion? My husband. What has become of him?"

"His body has been found amongst the slain in the battle." Catelyn was smiling.

The news hit Sansa harder than she thought it would. She immediately felt an ache deep inside her chest. Her husband was dead. One of the only few here who never did her any harm, who actually seemed that he cared for her well-being at times. She supposed it didn't matter now that she was safe, but still, this was not something she was necessarily pleased to hear.

Catelyn must have noticed.

"This is a good thing Sansa, no? You are widowed. It is easier than an annulment would be, assuming… you are no longer a maid?"

Sansa looked into her mother’s eyes. "I am still a maid. Tyrion never..." She trailed off. Catelyn seemed to notice her confusion.

"It's alright Sansa. This can all be figured out later. Now should be a happy time. I'll call for Robb. He's come in to see you too." She moved to get off the bed and Sansa grabbed her wrist as she pulled away.

"I'll only be a minute. I'll be right back I promise."

* * *

 

“Sansa!”

Robb burst into the room, his face was a mix of concern and shock. He quickly strode up to the bed, but stopped abruptly. His hands were at his sides, palms open, toward her as if waiting for permission.

“Your grace.” She said, unsure. Twenty one years old and he looked not a day younger than thirty five.

“Don’t call me that. Not you.”

“Robb.” She smiled and opened her arms.

When her brother smiled back at her, his entire face lit up. He looked like himself again, if only briefly. He stepped forward to take the embrace she offered.

Neither sibling said anything to fill the silence after they parted. Robb looked as if he did not know what to say, but Sansa felt that it would be his place to say something. Catelyn seemed to notice the awkward tension and quickly began chatting again. It wasn’t complete, nor totally comfortable, but Sansa was just happy to have at least part of her family back together.

“Sansa,” Robb finally said. “Tomorrow, if you are well enough, I would like for you to join me in the throne room. I will be sentencing prisoners from the battle. “

“Alright. What about Margaery? The Prince?” She suddenly wondered.

“Margaery and her son will return to Highgarden. Never to leave. The child is a Lannister. His father is a bastard. Neither has any claim to the throne.”

Sansa nodded, pleased that they wouldn’t be hurt. “And Joffrey?”

"I have yet to deal with him." A slow smile spread across his mouth. "I thought you might like to be there when I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, let me know what you think!! And find me on tumblr - Fancykidmd :)


	3. Chapter 3

Sansa

 

The day was long and, thankfully, almost at an end. Robb had seen and dealt with dozens and dozens of men, be it Lannister retainers or guardsmen or worse.

Most of them were sent to the Wall. Robb knew how badly their brother Jon, Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch needed strong and capable men. Those who have done unforgivable things would pay with their life. Seeing Ilyn Payne’s quivering jaw when he learned he was going to die was one of the sweetest sights Sansa had ever seen.

Sansa had rested all day and night to prepare for today, but she still felt exhausted. Shae helped her prepare for the day, almost as if everything was back to the horrible normal it was before Robb arrived. Shae however seemed to be quite distracted. It took her almost twice as long as usual to lace up her gown.

Sansa sat a few spots down from Robb on the dais. She was in a hard backed chair sitting on a cushion that felt like a rock after sitting for such a long time. Robb refused to sit on the iron throne. He had never wanted it, never wanted any part of it. And it was not his after all. The other people seated with them were Lord Bolton, Lord Karstark, the Greatjon Umber, Dacey Mormont, some Frey she could not care to remember, her great Uncle Brynden Tully and her mother. A Robb's feet sat Grey Wind, ever faithful and obedient, a beast of a thing after growing to full size.  Sansa tried her best to put Lady out of her mind for the time being.  It made Sansa happy to see all of the people who supported her brother in one place. They all waited a long time for this. They spent their men, their sons, for the chance to sit here today with the King in the North as he ruled.

“Bring out the next.”

Sansa was barely paying attention at this point. She just wanted to go back to bed, maybe have a glass of wine. She sighed as she looked over to the next prisoner, and her stomach dropped. The Hound. _How could I have forgotten about The Hound?!_ He was being pulled in by two Stark guards. Blood was crusted along the left side of his face, making his scars all that more intimidating. His clothes were filthy, his hair greasy and matted with the blood. His hands and feet were bound in shackles like the rest of the prisoners. But there was something else. _He’s injured._ He was leaning heavy on his right leg, his left almost dragging along. _How long have they been keeping him like this? Why hasn’t he been checked by the maester?_ The guards roughly slammed him down on his knees. Sansa flinched for him, imagining the pain that force must have caused to his injury.

“Sandor Clegane.” Robb growled.

The gravity of the situation hit Sansa slowly. _No. Not him._ A thousand images flooded her mind. She felt the grip of a stranger’s hand on her arm before it was cut off from the rest of his body. A leather hound’s head sewn on a red tunic. The stained white cloak that she hid in the bottom of her trunk. The strange relief she felt when she saw that he was still there after the Battle on the Blackwater. And suddenly, Robb’s face splattered with blood as the Hound’s read rolled away from his neck on the ground. Sansa’s hand went to her face to wipe away a tear that she didn’t feel fall. She didn’t know what she wanted, all she knew was that he couldn’t die. That is when she noticed that he was staring at her. Her instinct was to look away, but she didn’t. She hadn’t looked into his eyes since that night when he came for her. That night when she made him stay. _He wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me._ His steel grey eyes remained on her, unflinching, as he ever so slightly shook his head.

She barely even noticed Robb had started speaking.

“…charged with the murder of countless men in the Stark house guard when the Lannister’s turned against my father. You are charged with the murder of an unarmed boy on the road to King’s Landing. Above all, you supported and protected the abomination that is Joffrey.”

 _He wont. He’ll send him to the wall like the others._ She tried to convince herself, but she knew it wasn’t true.   _Robb has no idea. I have to do something._

“I sentence you to-“

“Robb!” She shouted. A hush fell over the entire court. Even with all of the people there, she could still hear an echo of her yell. Every person on the dais turned their heads sharply toward her, she even heard a gasp or two from the crowd. The Hound flinched, but put his head down. Robb looked at her, his eyes wide, his mouth in a line, and his crown of iron and bronze rested on his head.

“Your Grace.” She corrected. “Forgive me. May I have a word?”

He nodded and rose. The rest of the dais stood as he walked toward Sansa and took her arm. Once they were out of sight, she grabbed her brother by the shoulders.

“Robb. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disrespect you in front of - everyone. But you need to listen to me. You can’t kill him. Not him.”

“What! Sansa are you mad?”

“I know. I can’t imagine what you must be thinking. But I don’t know how to explain it so quickly.”

“Well you better try.” He said through his teeth.

All of the interactions with the Hound swept through her mind. She didn’t know where to begin.

“It’s too much to tell. Just believe me. Do this for me. Don’t kill him. He - he has helped me.”

Robb looked confused. “Whatever he did for you he did on Joffrey’s orders. He fought and lived to protect the bastard and you want to save his life!”

“Yes.”

“Why!?”

“Because _he_ saved _mine_! He helped me. Protected me. Over and over again. When no one else did!”

The last comment seemed to echo between the siblings. Robb blinked. Sansa saw his shoulders fall, ever so slightly.

"Please Robb.  I owe him this much."

He sighed and stalked away from her and headed back into the throne room. Sansa caught up with him quickly and kept her head down, careful to avoid the collective glare she could feel coming from every pair of eyes on the dais. They all sat as Robb and Sansa did. Sansa’s heart was in her throat. What have I done? She didn’t just challenge her brother in front of others, she challenged her King in front of his men and subjects. He would never listen to her anyway. She kept her eyes down at her clenched hands and whispered a prayer. She couldn’t watch.

“Sandor Clegane. My sister has spoken for your life.”

The room was silent. Sansa’s knuckles were white.

“Because of Sansa, you will not die. Not yet. Not by my hand.”

Gasps and murmurs filled the entire chamber. Sansa’s eyes widened. Her head whipped around to her brother. He was staring down his nose at the Hound, his mouth a straight line.

“You will join the Night’s Watch. You leave on the morrow.” He didn’t miss a beat. “Bring in the next.”

Sansa finally let herself look at the Hound. He was being pulled out by two Stark guards. He didn’t look at her as he was brought through the doorway from where they had come. And then he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes okay I went a little Game of Thrones here with Shae being Sansa's handmaid. Don't hate me. It will work I promise.
> 
> Edit - I was so excited to post again that I forgot to include Grey Wind! He's there now though don't fret.


	4. Chapter 4

Sansa

 

Sansa did not have time to think with the next prisoner they brought in. Seeing Cersei Lannister on her knees was not nearly satisfying as Sansa thought it would be.

She realized that she hadn’t really looked at Cersei in a very long time. She looked old. The skin under her green eyes had begun to sag. Her once beautiful skin was almost grey. Her lovely golden hair that Sansa has once been so jealous of looked brittle, thin. She could see the pink of her scalp through the strands easily under the light. Even though she looked so tired, the way she held herself would not have shown it. Her spine was erect, her head was high, chin uplifted, as if she was not the one in chains and on her knees. Sansa shook her head. _A true queen,_ _until the end_.

“Cersei Lannister.” Robb began. “You are charged with adultery, incest, plotting the murder of your king and husband, and putting your bastard son on the throne. We already killed the Kingslayer as soon as our victory was secured, and he had previously admitted to everything the two of you have done. Do you deny these accusations?”

Cersei ground her teeth. There was no more denying these facts, she must have seen that by now. Everyone knew about her and Jaime, about her plotting the death of Robert. Cersei’s silence on the matter only confirmed the truth of the stories they have heard for so long. It was only a matter of time before her dynasty fell to pieces beneath her. Sansa was glad Robb was the one to push her over the edge.

“But that is not the worst thing you’ve done. Your dungeons are filled with people who have been tortured, mutilated in the most unimaginable ways. I have seen things down there that are one thousand times worse than anything I have ever seen on the battlefield. I wouldn’t wish those atrocities on any man, not even you or your vile son.”

“Tommen and Myrcella. What do you plan to do with them?” She suddenly spoke through her teeth.

“Myrcella’s betrothal to Trystane Martell is at an end. The Martells have long been supporters of the Targaryens, and they are ready to welcome their queen back with open arms. Myrcella is a bastard after all, not a princess. She and Tommen will be sent to Casterly Rock as soon as I can spare the men to take them. They will not be punished for _your_ crimes.” Sansa was glad of that. Even though Myrcella and Tommen were Jaime’s, like Joffrey, they did not show the sickness that Joffrey was so unfortunate to receive.

Sansa expected Cersei to fight back. To defend herself, to weep or beg for forgiveness. Instead she did nothing after asking about her children.

Robb was seemingly finished with looking at her. “What you have done is unforgivable. But, I will show you mercy. I will show you the same mercy you showed my father. Tonight. Take her away.”

Cersei rose as gracefully as she could have in shackles and she was taken out of the throne room.

It was then that Sansa realized who Robb had been keeping for last.

Like she though with Cersei, Sansa had expected him to cry and beg for mercy. Sansa realized that this is what she had wanted. To see Joffrey in the same spot she used to kneel with his crossbow pointed at her. To see him cry like she used to as he had his knights beat her. But he did nothing of the sort. He was just like his mother, straight backed and haughty. He stared directly into Robb’s eyes. If he was scared, he didn’t show it. He was dirty from not washing. But Sansa noticed that it was not the filth of battle. _Not like the Hound._ There was not a speck of blood on his clothes or skin. His golden curls did not seem so bright without his crown. That, at least, made Sansa smile slightly.

“Joffrey.” Robb said with all of the disdain he could muster. “I will not refer to you as either Baratheon or Lannister. You are a Waters, are you not? A bastard, born of the incest of twins.” Sansa saw Joffrey’s jaw move to the side as he ground his teeth. “Joffrey Waters. I do not need to list the charges that I have against you. After killing my father and tormenting my sister, I do not think that you believe you will be surviving in this new world without Lannisters.”

When Robb mentioned Sansa, Joffrey turned to her. Her breath seeped out of her mouth and her heart was ready to beat out of her chest. From all the times he looked at her, even when he ran his eyes over her body with his sick desire, when he looked down on her with a smile as she was beaten, this was by far the most intimidating and fierce face he has ever worn. He looked at her with such anger that if his hands and feet were not bound, he would kill her. Rip her to shreds, strangle her right then and there. _He hates me._ She thought. _He hates me as much as I hate him._

 _No_ , she corrected herself. _No one could ever hate anyone as much as I hate Joffrey. And he is going to die._

Slowly, Sansa felt her lips turn up at the corner, and soon she was smiling like a fiend. _If he thinks he can scare me, looking at me like that, he truly is mistaken._ This seemed to make him angrier, which only made Sansa smile wider. _After today, he will be gone._ It was no longer a hope that he would be poisoned, killed by a mob in the streets, or pushed over a ledge by Sansa’s own hands; it was actually going to happen. _Joffrey will not exist in the world any more. He will only be a, very horrible, memory._ Sansa felt foolish as she held back a giggle with her hand. She regained her composure and stared right back at Joffrey will an arrogance that she had never felt in her life, that smile still playing at her lips.

Robb seemed unaware of this silent exchange of mutual hatred.

“When you ordered my father’s death, you did not have the strength to do it yourself.” Robb stood. Grey Wind came to his side. Robb grabbed hold of the fur around his wolf’s neck. At his master’s touch, Grey Wing bared his teeth and growled. The sound chilled Sansa to the bone. She could only imagine how Joffrey felt as he ever so slightly leaned his body back. “Unlike you, I will not be making that mistake. I will take your head myself. You deserve to die the most slow and painful death. But I will no longer waste my time letting you draw breath. Joffrey- I sentence you to die, tonight.”

“You will pay for this Stark.” Joffrey said. “Someday, your reign will end and you will burn in hell with your traitor father-“

Robb released Grey Wind as Joffrey spoke. The wolf immediately bounded down, and within a second, he was in front of Joffrey. He stopped talking and recoiled back. Grey Wind snarled, he licked his snout around his bared teeth as a low growl from deep within his chest rippled out of him. With Joffrey on his knees, the beast was looking down at him.

“You can say whatever you like Joff.” Robb had a smile like Sansa’s. “Go ahead.”

Grey Wind took a step further as Joffrey tried to lean back. The wolf suddenly snapped his jaws not an inch away from Joffrey’s nose. Joffrey gave a small yelp, but he remained unharmed.

Robb laughed. “To me, Grey Wind.” The wolf loped over to his master. “Take him away.”

The guards brought the silent, former king to his feet and dragged him roughly out of the room.

The events of the day were finished. Robb stood, as did the rest of the people dais. Some of them looked as happy as Sansa felt. Roose Bolton remained stone faced as ever. Her mother looked tired, but pleased. Robb however, turned his suddenly angry eyes towards Sansa before stalking out of the room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one was hard for me to write. I tried to be as realistic as possible without going too much into it. I felt like Robb in this case - didn't really want to hear Joffrey's sniveling little voice anymore. This isn't the Joffrey and Cersei show after all! As always, please tell me what you think! I love hearing from you all!


	5. Chapter 5

Sansa

When they were alone, Sansa tried to apologize profusely, but she didn’t even get a chance.

“Robb please- “

“In front of my men Sansa. They still see me as a little boy. Do you know how that feels? To be a king and to be considered a child at the same time?”

“I’m sorry. I-“

He cut her off again. “First I have mother challenging me in front of them. And now my little sister.”

“Please Robb. Forgive me.”

He paced the room, no longer seething, but very angry. And suddenly Sansa didn’t care anymore. _He has no right to be angry._

“You have no right to continue being angry with me Robb. If I forgave you so quickly, then you should be able to do the same for me, for this little thing.”

“Forgave me? What did you forgive me for?”

She screamed inside of her head and she felt her hands shake. It all bubbled up to the surface and Sansa couldn’t hold it back anymore. The words flowed from her mouth and there was no taking them back.

“For this!” She yelled, her arms flung out to her sides, gesturing to her surroundings. “For everything! You left me here! You didn’t come for me. Every single day I prayed, I hoped, I _knew_ that you would come for me. Take me away from this hell. Bring me _home._ But you took your sweet time getting here didn’t you? Stopping along the way to get married. Make a baby. All the while your sister rotted in King’s Landing with your greatest enemies as her captors.”

Robb was completely taken aback. He almost looked repulsed. “Gods, Sansa. You are serious, aren’t you? You are nearly eighteen years old and you still act like a child. After all of your time at court I guess I had expected you to grow up Sansa. But you are just that same little girl who plays at games of knights and fair maidens."

“Don’t you say that-” She spat.

“Oh but its true.” He said with a laugh. “Because if you had matured, even a little bit, you would have realized how absolutely impossible it would have been for me to try anything so _stupid_! I had a _war_ to fight Sansa. A _kingdom_ to rule. And we had the Kingslayer! Do you think they would have actually killed you while I held him hostage?”

“I don’t care about the _bloody_ Kingslayer! I was tormented Robb! Humiliated! Stripped naked, beaten, threatened and married _to the imp_. I could have been pregnant with Joffrey’s bastard! My head could have been put on a spike at any time if he pleased. But those things didn’t happen because of the people who were here. Those who actually tried to help me. Tyrion. Margaery. _Sandor._ Not you. Not my own brother.”

“You clearly don’t understand. It is no use to explain to you if this is the state of mind you’re in. You are clearly tired Sansa. Go back to bed.”

Sansa was so angry, so frustrated, that she started to cry.

“I know what you had to do Robb. I can’t imagine how hard it must have been. But I thought that I could have been important enough to send in someone, anyone, into King’s Landing, to come and rescue me.”

Robb rolled his eyes and backed away from her, he started pacing again. _He doesn’t understand._

“Joffrey had me beaten whenever you won a battle. Did you know that?” He stopped in his tracks, his back to her, his hands on his hips.

“Did you ever even think of that? Did you ever think of _me_? Did you ever think of Arya? Have you been looking for Arya in the same way you’ve been looking for Bran and Rickon? Or is she not important enough? Like me.”

She saw him shake his head. She was truly sobbing in earnest now.

“You left me here to suffer. And suffer I did.” She said the next the next thing before she could stop herself. And she immediately regretted it. “Do you have any idea what it was like? To see our father’s head rolling on the ground? To be forced to look at it on a spike!”

Robb turned on his heel. The rims of his eyes were bright red, but no tears fell. “How dare you.” He gave a shuddering release of breath, and he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ouch. She went there.


	6. Chapter 6

Sansa

 

The evening was too warm and Sansa was overdressed. She could feel the sweat dripping down her back under the thick fabric. The common folk gathered all around the platform where Robb stood, eager to see the end of the rulers they hated.

Robb addressed them before he began. Today, Ilyn Payne, Cersei Lannister, and Joffrey Waters will meet their end.” The crowd clapped and cheered.

“I imagine some of you were here to watch my father die just a few years ago.” The crowd went silent. “I have no desire to be your king. I can only hope that you are people deserving the rule and Order Queen Daenerys is going to bring. In the meantime, I will be here, ruling in her stead. My first act is to get rid of the traitors in this city.”

Robb motioned for the guards to bring the first forward.

“I would offer you a chance for your last words Ser Ilyn…”

Ilyn Payne’s jaw quivered as he gnashed his teeth together for the last time.

She watched Ilyn Payne as he was bent down over the block. She was not afraid to look, not even with the memory of her father at the forefront of her mind. Robb’s sword cut through his neck like it was warm butter. Sansa watched his head roll two times before stopping, his face was down against the ground. His body jerked once. Sansa expected to feel immense joy, a feeling of vengeance, of righteousness. But she felt nothing.

They cleared away the body and the blood off of Robb’s sword. Cersei was next.

Her last words were simple and expected. “All that I did, I did for my children. I have no regrets.”

Sansa had to give her credit. She didn’t expect her to be so gracious. She expected her to go kicking and screaming like the lion she is. But her head came off all the same. In the fading light of day, Sansa had never seen her hair look so beautiful. But Sansa felt nothing as they cleaned up her body and blood.

Joffrey didn’t kick and scream either. But he did curse Robb. And Sansa.

“May the Others take you Robb Stark. You and your whore sister.”

Sansa hadn’t realized how much he actually _cared_ about hating her until then, how much energy he seemed to put into it. The last words he had the chance to say and he wasted them on one of the weakest insults Sansa had ever heard. It was quite sad really.

“May the Gods judge you justly, Joffrey.” Robb said.

Sansa almost expected worms, spiders and beetles to come spilling out of his neck. But it was only blood like the others. _So he was more human than monster after all. More child than man_ , based on what he decided to say. When Robb turned around with his bloodied sword, Sansa saw the blood splattered on his tired face. She wondered if it was from all three.

Her eyes seemed to glaze over. Sansa expected that seeing Joffrey’s body jerk around without its head would fill her with the greatest happiness. But she felt nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little baby chapter. Had to get this out of the way. Anyway... no more Joff yaaaaay!!!!


	7. Chapter 7

Sansa

Sansa woke early in the morning, still exhausted from the little sleep she had. She called for a bath. She washed alone. She did not need Shae to do this for her. Not today, and not with the way she was feeling.

Cersei, Ilyn Payne, and Joffrey, all dead. She had watched them die. Watched their blood spill from their necks, watched their bodies jerk around like they were chickens. All night, Sansa reviewed her memories of these people. The nightmares of her years in King’s Landing flashing through her head as they did on most nights. All she had wanted for so long was for them to all be dead and gone. And now they were. Her mother and brother were here, with her. She was no longer married. And Sansa was safe. So why doesn’t it feel any better? Why didn’t she feel anything at all?

She tried to focus on the task at hand, washing the dirt and sweat from yesterday’s events off of her neck, her shoulders. When she was finished washing, she closed her eyes and sunk down into the tub, submerging herself entirely. Sansa did this from time to time. Usually Shae was there to pull her out after a few seconds. But Sansa always wondered how long she could hold her breath.

Her mind kept reluctantly returning to her fight with Robb. His eyes red after what she had last said to him. _Of course he doesn’t know what it was like to watch father be killed,_ she thought. _He probably imagines it all of the time. Probably wishes he could have been here to stop them. He probably sees it worse than I do._ At the muffled sound of a knock on the door, Sansa pulled herself up out of the tub and opened her eyes.

“Mother.”

Catelyn looked at her daughter, closed the door behind her and sighed. Sansa busied herself, taking the basin of clean water and pouring it over her head before standing slowly and carefully. Catelyn came to the tub, grabbed Sansa’s robe and wrapped it around her. She held her hand steady as she stepped out of the water. Sansa sat in a chair and Catelyn began to dry her hair with a towel.

“Have you spoken to him yet?”

Sansa turned her head up to her mother.

“No.”

“It will help neither of you know, if you fight.”

Sansa shook her head. “How did you know?”

Catelyn smiled, sadly. “I may not have seen you grow into a woman Sansa, but I am still your mother.”

Sansa turned back around and Catelyn began to brush through her hair, like she used to do sometimes back at Winterfell.

“You should talk to him Sansa. I may not know what you fought about, but what I do know is that Robb may be the only true sibling you have left.” The words struck her like a hammer to the chest. She could only imagine the pain they caused her mother as they slipped out of her mouth. “You should not waste your time fighting with him.”

Sansa sighed. She knew her mother was right. She just didn’t think Robb would ever be able to forgive her after what she said. Even if he did, she was still angry with him. Angry that he just did not understand what she had been through.

“Are you going to miss her?” Catelyn continued.

Today, Margaery was being sent away. Sansa realized that she hadn’t seen the queen in quite some time. She figured she should be there to see her off. _She made things easier here, for a time._

“After the birth of the prince, I really did not see much of her at all. There really won’t be anyone, anything to miss.”

Sansa had heard that the new recruits of the Night’s Watch were being taken on the road today as well. She doubted it would be appropriate to see the Hound off as he left on foot and in chains. Still, she wanted to thank him. She felt like she never really had the opportunity. They hadn’t even spoken after that night of the battle. _Hopefully my speaking for his life is enough thanks to give him_ , she decided.  She tried not to imagine how she would feel tomorrow, knowing that she would never see him again. _You are safe now,_ she reminded herself. _You don’t need Sandor Clegane anymore. Robb is here to keep you safe, to bring you home._

 

* * *

 

“I have to thank you Sansa.” Margaery was seated in the carriage that would take her all the way back to Highgarden. She struggled to keep her little baby still on her lap. The child was almost six months old and, thankfully, looked nothing like his father. However, he did seem to share his temperament.

“For what?” Sansa asked.

“For whatever you did to convince your brother not to harm us.”

“He decided that without my help, Margaery. Robb is not the type to harm women or children.” Robb decided that he would let Daenerys choose the fate of the rest of the Tyrells, should she choose to come. Whether they will keep Highgarden- that was all up to their queen.

Margaery nodded. “He did make me sign a contract though. That me or my son shall never leave Highgarden, or we will be punished by death.”

“You will have a happy life, Margaery.” Sansa moved on. _Honestly what did she expect to happen after her monster of a husband was taken down?_ “I remember I once dreamed that I would live and grow old in Highgarden.”

Margaery smiled slightly. “Yes. We were meant to be sisters once, you and me.”

“Yes.” Sansa remembered how badly she wanted to be Margaery’s friend and sister. _What a fool I was._ Now that she was grown, the only sister she wanted was Arya. “Travel safely Margaery. Write me whenever you like. And good luck with your son.”

“I will Sansa, and thank you.”

“I can only hope he is nothing like his father.” Margaery mouth popped open. Sansa curtsied, turned and walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeeesh. Could you imagine another Joffrey in the world!?
> 
> On a side note, I am realizing that I am more addicted to writing this than I thought. I think I will probably have it done within a month! 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and please let me know what you think! I love talking about this stuff!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of this chapter may not be appropriate to those who are sensitive about reading of abuse of any kind. Not too bad, but just want to be sure!

Sansa

On her way back to the Red Keep, Sansa was followed by two men of the Stark house guard. Even though she did not know them, she was just happy not to see any Lannister red on their person. The day was bright and warm, with a cool breeze that flowed through Sansa’s hair. She looked up, tilted her face toward the sun. _It would be nice to be outside a little longer._

She turned to her guards. “What do you say we go for a ride?”

The men both turned to look at each other, confused, before looking back at Sansa.

“Are you sure that is a good idea Lady Sansa? Are you feeling well enough?”

“Of course I am. Otherwise I wouldn’t have asked.”

Sansa turned and changed her direction to the stables. She heard the guards hurry to catch up behind her.

Sansa heard the ruckus before she saw it. A horse, clearly upset. The strained voices of two, three men who tried to control it. When the commotion came into view, Sansa found that she was correct. There were three men, trying to control the biggest horse she ever remembered seeing. A huge black destrier, on its hind legs, front legs kicking furiously into the air. Once man struggled to hold his reigns. Another who held a saddle, was backing away. Sansa came just in time to see the war horse kick another man into the dust.

“What is going on here!” Sansa yelled over the noise.

“The Hound’s beast.” The man holding the reigns grunted. “Can’t control him, but the Wall needs strong horses.”

“Maybe you should let _the Hound_ come and take his horse then.”

At that, the horse came down to stand on all of his hooves. He breathed hard out of enormous nostrils, and seemed to calm, ever so slightly.

“Orders from the king, my lady. Prisoners must walk their way to the wall.”

Sansa remembered the last time she saw the Hound. His injured leg. He must have seen the replacement maester, as Maester Pycelle’s heart was said to have given out during the battle. _They would not send an injured man to the wall without attempting to heal him first_ , she thought, _especially if he was going to be made to walk_.

Sansa slowly began to approach the horse.

“My Lady-“, her guard began to warn her. She ignored him.

“What’s his name?” The horse stamped his hooves into the ground, kicking up more dust. But Sansa continued to move closer, her palm outstretched until she was within a yard of him.

“Stranger.” Both men now controlled his reigns, the man with the saddle stood off to the side, apprehensive.

“Stranger.” She whispered. _Of course Sandor Clegane would name his horse after the representation of death in the Faith of the Seven._ The horse harrumphed when she said his name. Sansa smiled and reached up to touch his nose. When she did, he stilled, almost completely. She continued to pet him softly so they were able to hook up the saddle. After a moment, Sansa stepped away.

“Thank you, my lady.” One of them said, staring at her with wide eyes.

Sansa nodded once. “Send my luck to whoever tries to ride him.”

* * *

Once Sansa’s chestnut was ready, the guards helped her up into the saddle. She hadn’t been riding in a very long time, but the chestnut horse she rode was always easy with her. She patted her mane as the guards readied their horses behind her. Sansa didn’t know what came over her with Stranger. She had never been particularly good with animals. _Only Lady._ Sansa could not explain the interaction that had just occurred, no matter how hard she thought about it. _Maybe he just needed a soft touch, a soft voice to calm him_. But if he was used to the Hound, she couldn’t imagine Stranger got the same from him.

She shook the thought away as she put her heels into her horse. The three took the path to the Kingswood.

“We should stay on the outskirts of the wood, my lady.”

“Alright.” She wanted to feel the sun on her face anyway.

When they got there, Sansa led her chestnut into the line of trees, stopping just a few yards in to stay in sight of the path. The group continued on at a steady pace. Sansa was in no need to move fast. She just wanted to enjoy the beautiful day. She was glad that her guards were quiet. She had no desire to chat. She was enjoying hearing the sounds of the forest. The leaves rustling in the breeze, the birds chirping.

After a while, Sansa got off her horse to stretch her legs. Her guards dismounted as she did. She gave a heavy sigh. She knew they were only there to do their job, to keep her safe. But she really just wanted to be alone with her thoughts. Try and think of what she should say to Robb. Suddenly, she had an idea.

“I will be right back”

“I insist on coming with you, my lady.”

“Well I insist you stay here.” She raised her eyebrows, hoping they would get the hint. And they did.

“Of course, my lady. We will be right here.”

Sansa tilted her head toward them, and stalked off down a slight slope deeper into the trees. She didn’t actually have to relieve herself. She realized she hadn’t even had anything to drink or eat in the morning. At the thought, her stomach rumbled. She guessed that was a good sign, she hadn’t been hungry in a long time.

She walked further down for a few minutes, careful to keep in a straight line to remember how to get back. And that is when she saw it. The loveliest little bird she had ever seen. It was red. A bright red, the red of her mother’s house, not the dark crimson Lannister shade. She stopped in her tracks, so as to not scare it away, but a twig snapped under her boot and it was gone. Sansa had never seen anything like it. It flew in a strange way too, up and down, like the flowing of a water over a shallow, rocky riverbed.

Sansa had to see it again. She followed the bird to the left where it had flown. She could hear it. A short, sharp chirp. She listened for the noise. When she heard it again, she followed a little further until she saw it up in the branches. She was able to look at it closer. Its head was pointed, feathers leading to a peak at the top. Its beak was orange, eyes black, but that red was something she had never seen in nature before, aside from on flowers. It was one of the most beautiful things Sansa had ever seen. She smiled and sighed, pleased with her discovery.

“Well what do we have here?”

Sansa froze. Her stomach dropped. She turned, and there was a man. His cloak was tattered and filthy, his face dirty and grey. He was gaunt, probably hungry, but he was bigger than Sansa, stronger. He held the reigns to his horse that stood behind him.

“Don’t come near me.” She said, trying to sound strong and failing miserably.

His eyes were alight as he looked at her, up and down, smiling. Sansa could taste bile in the back of her throat, remembering Joffrey looking at her the same way. She could scream. _Did I walk too far for the guards to hear?_

He seemed to know what she was thinking as he stalked forward toward her. “Don’t you scream.”

But she did as she backed away and tried to run. She tripped over an uplifted root, stumbling, but not falling. The stumble gave him the chance to catch her by her left arm. She pulled away, but he pulled harder.

Sansa heard the pop first. Her scream second. He covered her mouth as she went limp with the pain that radiated through her shoulder. With one last attempt, Sansa swung up her right arm. She raked her fingers, hard and deep over his face. He let out a grunt before knocking her over and restraining her one good arm, her mouth still covered. Sansa struggled, kicking any part of him she could touch. _This is not how it is going to end._ But she realized, _of course it is. Of course this would happen now of all times. Joffrey’s curse certainly didn’t take much time to come true at all_. The man reached above her quickly, straining to reach while she fought beneath him. When his hand came back, she saw he gripped onto a big grey rock. She felt a flash of pain, and then there was only blackness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh. Sansa's out cold. I wonder who is going to narrate the next chapter...
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	9. Chapter 9

Sandor

 _The fucking Night’s Watch_.

Sandor couldn’t believe his luck. He thought he was lucky enough to die, even if it was protecting Joff. _Just end it already,_ he thought after he lost all that blood from his leg, as the world went black. But to his disappointment, Sandor woke up a day later, with a hole through his leg. When he was brought in front of the King in the North, he had the same hope. _Good. A clean death. Just cut off my ugly head and be done with it._

All he wanted was one last look. That’s all. So he took it.

He didn’t expect her to stare right back. He tried to take it all in, the cool blue of her sad eyes, her pure, soft skin- and that hair. All he wanted was to look, for the last time. And then he saw it. A tear in her eye. Then all of a sudden, Sansa _fucking_ Stark thought he was asking for help. _Him?_ Asking the _little bird_ for help? My, how the tables have turned. But help is not what he wanted. He tried to shake his head, tell her to keep quiet, but of course she couldn’t. He couldn’t imagine what she would have said to make her brother change his mind. _She chirped, sang her little song to her brother, and now I’m walking to the fucking Wall with a limp_.

The company couldn’t be any worse. Pieces of shit, Lannister men. _You are one of those piece of shit Lannister men,_ he reminded himself. _Well not anymore._ Men of the Night’s Watch keep no allegiances once they are sworn in. It was fitting that Sandor, who had never sworn to anything in his life, not even to Joffrey, would end up living the rest of his miserable life as a sworn brother in black.

They’d been walking at a pace slower than the thickest honey. Only ten of the sixty or so men had horses. There were five carts full of food and supplies going with them too. One of the horses they had taken was Stranger. Sandor was livid, until he realized that Stranger was angrier. The man who tried to ride him was bucked off twice before he finally gave up. Now the beast was tied to the back of a cart, loaded down with supplies like any old pack mule. At their pace, they barely made any time on the Kingsroad. They stopped at midday to take a break when the rider came to pass them.

One horse, two riders, both in tattered cloaks. They were coming up fast, but slowed as they got closer.

“Help!” a man yelled. Sandor could now tell that there was a woman in front of him. Her face was covered by the cloak. She was slumped over in the saddle, clearly unconscious.

One of Sandor’s gaolers stepped up to answer. “What is the matter?”

“Its my wife! She is ill. Please, tell me there is the nearest inn?

The woman's riding boots were made of fine, dark leather. Much too fine for the wife of this man. _He must have stolen them for her_ , he thought. 

"If you keep your pace, you will reach the inn before nightfall."

"Thank you, ser." He put his heels into his horse. "Seven blessings. And safe travels."

He was working his horse into a canter as he passed Sandor were he stood. It was not yet fast enough, though. Sandor saw was looked like four deep scratch marks on the man’s face underneath his hood. _She is not his wife._

Just then, before the man could round the curve ahead, his passenger’s hood slipped back off of her head. 

Sandor's muscles went taught. His wrists pulled against their shackles. He would know that shade of hair anywhere.

"Stop him! Stop him now!" 

The men with him wheeled around toward him with a start. 

"He's got Sansa Stark!"

A few of the men sniggered, others shook their heads and continued to go about their tasks. Sandor's rage was palpable. 

"What are you fucking waiting for?! Go after him!" He roared. 

"Bugger off, Hound. Nice try. We know all the tricks. Nothin' you can do to distract us."

He could be almost a mile away the pace he was going. _Did they not see the shock of copper hair as her hood fell back? Was he the only one who would have noticed?_ Sandor didn't give himself a chance to think. He ran over, as best as her could, to the man trying to hold Stranger still. The beast seemed to know exactly what Sandor was thinking. Stranger whipped his massive head around knocking the man over and leaving him in the dust. The saddle was free for the taking. Sandor was only mildly aware of the scene unfolding around him as he knocked off the saddlebags and swung up onto Stranger. Swords were drawn, but not quickly enough.

Sandor and Stranger were off before most of the men could react. He never rode with bound hands before, but he made do. Stranger knew him well enough anyway. In just a few seconds they were galloping up the road. 

Sandor was vaguely aware of the men yelling at him from behind and he felt a strange jolt of pain in his left leg, but he didn't even take a second to look. He knew he wouldn't have to worry about being caught. At the speed he was going, no one would be able to reach them. And this man will never make it to that inn with the little bird.

After several minutes, Sandor realized he must have caught up to the man already. He doubled back and noticed fresh tracks leading into the forest. He managed to steer the destrier through the trees to follow. It was then that Sandor realized something. No sword. Hands bound. The ragged man was at least a head shorter than Sandor and looked as if he hadn't eaten in days. _So it would be a fair fight then._

He was in the trees deep enough when he heard his search party pass down the road. They obviously missed the tracks. 

Sandor heard the gurgling of water. A stream. Splashing. He got off of Stranger and winced as his feet hit the ground. He looked down at his left leg. An arrow was sticking out of his thigh, midway between his knee and hip. Three inches deep, one inch away from his previous injury. He bit his tongue as he snapped the arrow in half. _Deal with that later._  

Sandor listened closely as he moved toward the sound. He stopped behind a tree when he glimpsed the man at the edge of the stream. He was hunched over, splashing the water off his face. The girl was still unconscious, laying against the horses neck as the animal drank from the stream. It was her alright. No doubt about it. Her hair hung like a copper curtain as it slipped from her hood. 

Sandor took a minute to assess the surroundings. No sword hung from the man’s hips. Must have a dagger. _Well this isn't going to be pretty_. 

He walked as slowly and quietly as he could. The man was wincing as he washed the dried blood from his face. "Bitch." He muttered to himself.  "Just you wait. I’ll make you pay for this later, you can be sure of that."

“You'll do nothing of the sort.”

Before the man even had a chance to turn, Sandor’s wrists were around his neck, the chain from his shackles digging into his flesh. The man reached for the dagger at his hip. Sandor fell to the ground, bringing the man with him. The dagger slipped from his fingers. As he choked out his last breaths, his hands clawed at Sandor’s, but it was no use. 

His struggles went unrewarded as his limp body sank into the mud. Sandor released him, kicking him into the water for good measure. He caught his breath as he got to his feet. 

_Little bird._

Sandor lifted her face. _Still breathing._ He couldn’t really help her with his hands tied, so he dug in the mud for that dagger. He worked at the lock as best he could. It took a few frustrating minutes, but it finally worked.

He pulled her from the saddle. _Light as a feather._ He held her in his arms. She was limp, but alive and breathing. He let out a breath of relief that he hadn't realized he had been holding as he checked her over. 

She had some dirt and scratches on her face, as well as a small gash over a large red lump, swollen and growing just above her left eye. 

"Who let you out of your nest?"

He crossed her arms over her chest. _Shit_. Her left shoulder seemed to be dislocated. He settled her down on the grass. Reaching over to the dead man, he ripped off a long piece of his cloak. He managed to wrap the fabric around Sansa’s body, to create a sling to support her arm. Sandor lifted her when he was finished and hobbled over to Stranger and slipped her up onto the saddle. Once she was settled, he limped to the water to check his own wounds. His hands were scratched, but not as deep as the wound Sansa had given her captor. Sandor’s mouth turned up at one corner as he washed the blood from his hands. _Time for the leg._ The wound was deep, but not bleeding too badly.  He bit down as he worked the bugger out of his flesh. He ripped off another piece of the man’s cloak. He made a tourniquet above the wound to stop the bleeding and wrapped the rest of the woolen strip over the deep wound, lest any dirt get in there. _Had worse._ But never two wounds from different events just an inch away from each other. 

Once he hopped on the saddle behind Sansa, he kept Stranger in the forest as they followed the Kingsroad south. For about a mile. When there was no sign of his abandoned party, he moved onto the road and worked Stranger into a gallop. He didn’t want dusk to fall before they got back. 

Sandor held the reigns with Sansa encapsulated within the length of his arms. Her head rested against his chest as they rode. His thoughts unwillingly, and somewhat shamefully, turned to the last time he was so close to her. The Battle of the Blackwater. _She was so scared. I did that. I scared her._ But somewhere in the back of his mind, another voice reminded him of something else. _She touched your face. She begged you not to leave._  

_You didn't leave and where did that get you. Sent to the Nights Watch only to flee and get bloody arrow in your leg._

_Better an arrow in the leg then your head on a spike_ , he supposed. _If she hadn’t spoken up for him, where would she be now?_

That didn’t matter now. She was safe. And all he knew was that he had to get the little bird back to her family. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sandor Clegane = everything, as far as I'm concerned.
> 
> This was my favorite one to write so far. Tell me what you thiiiiink!


	10. Chapter 10

Sansa

The waves crashed again and again against the sides of the ship. The boat rocked back and forth until Sansa felt that she was going to be sick. Her head was pounding with the ceaseless motion. How long has she been on this ship? She needed to sleep. Just for a little. Just until the pounding, stabbing pain in her head stopped. She clambered over to the trunk in the small cabin, tossing out dresses, shifts and small clothes until she reached what she was looking for at the bottom. She wrapped the white fabric over her shoulders and climbed into her bunk. The waves almost seemed to recede as she breathed in the familiar scent. 

_Sandor._

 

* * *

 

Sandor

It was already starting to get dark when the Red Keep’s towers came into view between the trees. He slowed Stranger as the familiar stench of King’s Landing wafted its way through the leaves. Sansa was still unconscious as far as he could tell. He held both reigns with his right hand so he could turn her face toward his with his left. Still out. Still breathing. They continued to move at a steady pace toward the gates. 

“Hmmm…” Sansa breathed, so softly he almost didn’t hear it.

Sandor's muscles went rigid. She's waking up.

Sansa let out a soft groan from deep in her throat. Her head turned to the right and she rested her cheek on his chest. Even through the mail he wore, Sandor was still aware of every part of her that touched him. 

Sansa breathed in deep. 

"Sandor." she murmured softly, under her breath. But he still heard it. 

Sandor’s skin felt like it was on fire. In a good way, if that could make any sense to someone like him. He felt an aching somewhere deep in his chest. _She's never said my name like that before._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh... little filler. 
> 
> I figured that now would be a good time to tell you all the music I’ve been listening too while I’ve been writing this stuff. I find it very difficult to write without music, and these guys have all been helping me, getting me in the groooove.
> 
> From Indian Lakes – Absent Sounds  
> Bounders – Self-Titled (highly recommend btw)  
> Saves the Day – Daybreak  
> Daughter – Smother  
> Lights – Little Machines  
> Florence and the Machine – New singles  
> Keane – Under the Iron Sea
> 
> Also the music of my teenage students' obnoxious shouts and petty gossip during the school day.
> 
> Oh and I apologize, but I probably won't be posting anything tomorrow. I'm graduating with my Master's! Woooo!
> 
> Ok enjoy. Sorry for rambling. Tell me what you think!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiny little thing. More to come today! Subbing in a math class all day and y'all know I'm not looking at no numbers! P.S. - Thank you all for the kind words and congratulations! Means a lot. :)

Robb

_Could she have been taken? Could she have run away?_

Horrible images of his little sister flooded his mind. He tried to shake them away, but found that to be impossible.

_I will never forgive myself for this._

He was busy answering another letter from his brother Jon when he heard. Jon was monitoring the search party for their little brothers in the North. Every lead was still coming up empty.

All of a sudden, one of the men he assigned to guard Sansa nearly beat down the door to his solar and he ran through it.

“Your Grace, it’s Lady Sansa. She’s gone.”

Robb dropped the letter. “ _Gone?_ What do you mean _gone?_ ”

He told Robb how she had insisted on going for a ride through the forest, how she refused an escort as she left her horse. But Robb couldn’t afford to waste any more time asking questions. He would deal with them later. And if Sansa didn’t turn up, _Gods help them._

Robb had been out himself, looking for Sansa just until dusk settled. He called one hundred of his men, the ones he trusted to come out and search with him. Dacey Mormont insisted on joining him as well.

“She can’t have gone far Your Grace. How far could one young lady get through the forest on her own?”

“That’s why I’m worried.” Robb looked at her. “What if she’s not on her own?”

They rode through the Kingswood, following in different directions from where Sansa was last seen, tearing apart the forest, looking for any trace of her. As dusk was approaching, Robb was imagining the worst. He called for fifty more men and returned to the Red Keep to update his mother.

“She’s gone. She’s gone and its all my fault.”

He was pacing the solar. His mother sat in a chair- her back straight, her face emotionless. She said nothing to ease his suffering, to offer him comfort, so Robb and his thoughts were left alone.

He kept imagining Sansa, crying as they fought. Her words reverberated through his mind.

_Did you ever think of_ _me_ _? Did you ever think of Arya? Have you been looking for Arya in the same way you’ve been looking for Bran and Rickon? Or is she not important enough? Like me._

At the time, he thought she was being absurd. But now? _She was right_. Why had he not sent out searches for Arya in the same way he had for his brothers? He had no answer for himself, and that made him feel even worse. And now Sansa was gone too.

He wouldn’t be making the same mistake again. Come morning, if she still could not be found, Robb decided he would send out search parties in all different directions, to turn the seven kingdoms upside down, to find his sisters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look at that! Robb doing something right for once!


	12. Chapter 12

Sandor

 

When they approached the gates, Sandor noticed there were more guards than usual. Some of them were on horseback. Sandor rolled his eyes. _So they actually noticed she was missing huh?_

He didn’t want them to waste anytime questioning him being back. He removed the hood from Sansa’s face as they got closer.

“Tell the king his sister is safe.”

The guards’ eyes went wide, but thankfully they asked no questions. Not yet.

“I’ll escort you to the Red Keep.” One of the guards on horseback said. He led the way as another trailed behind Stranger. Another guard rode ahead, faster, as if to warn them. In just a few minutes, they were at the entrance to Maegor’s Holdfast. The King and his mother strode up to them as they stopped, faces full of concern. King Robb himself pulled Sansa from the saddle.

“She needs a maester.” Sandor told him. “Shoulder is busted, she’s got a gash on her head and she’s been unconscious for hours.”

Robb and Catelyn hovered over Sansa as they ran inside the holdfast with her, as if they didn’t even notice him.

Sandor dismounted, careful on his left leg. Blood had soaked through the bandage he made for himself already. “Fuck.” He went to rip it off, to check the wound, but his hand was caught. He looked up, the guards that escorted him in were now restraining him. Sandor didn’t see the use of fighting back, not in his condition. He let them put him in shackles. “When you’re done, be sure to tell your king that his sister would be dead tonight if it weren’t for me.”

 

* * *

 

Robb

She was alive. _Thank the Gods._ But she was hurt. Both he and Catelyn watched as the maester checked her over. Her shoulder was badly dislocated.

“It’s a good thing she’s unconscious for this.” The maester murmured under his breath.

The maester had Robb hold her body steady as he twisted and worked her arm abruptly back into place. With a loud snap, Sansa’s eyes opened wide and she screamed. Catelyn ran over to quiet her as the maester ran for milk of the poppy. After a minute, Sansa was calm enough to drink, and almost instantly, she was back under. The maester was addressing the wound on her head when Robb realized he should probably go see what happened to her. And how _Sandor Clegane_ managed to be the one that brought her back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But wait, there's more! Just have to take attendance. :)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man. Seniors suck. Took longer than I thought, but here it is!! More up soon!

Robb

 

He had them bring the Hound into his solar. He was standing when Robb arrived. He gave a very slight bow, and gestured his hands in their chains, as if showing them off. Robb noticed his leg.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Aye. Night’s Watch doesn’t take too kindly to deserters, even if they are trying to save the king’s sister.”

Robb motioned for his guard to pull up a chair for him as Robb sat down himself.

“Tell me everything.”

“Man had your sister on his horse, hooded and beaten. No one would follow them, so I did. Got an arrow in me, killed the man, brought her back.”

“How did you know it was her? If she was hooded?” Robb asked.

The Hound was silent for a moment, as if reluctant to answer. “Her hair.”

Robb nodded, supposing that was all he would get from this man. He took a deep breath.

“I thank you for returned her Clegane.” He stood, and so did the Hound, slowly and with much effort. “Bring him to one of the open rooms.” He told his guard. “I’ll send a maester to see to that leg.” And he strode out of the room.

 

* * *

 

Sansa

 

_Sansa heard the bird, before she saw it. She wanted to chase it, to see the color again before it was gone. But then the filthy man was there, he was on top of her, ripping at her dress-_

“No!” She screamed. She tried to swing her arms. One was immediately gripped by a strong hand, the other was restrained, and giving her an immense amount of pain. Sansa opened her eyes to see her brother’s.

“Don’t move. You’ll only make it worse.”

Sansa bit her tongue as she tried to catch her breath. She whimpered as Robb helped settle her gently against the pillows. The room was too bright, her head pounded with the light in her eyes.

“What happened?”

Robb shook his head. “What happened is you walked away from your guards. So you will be getting new ones. More capable that those fools."

"Don't lecture me now, Robb. What _happened_?"

"All I know is what the Hound told me.”

“The Hound?” Her heart beat faster at the thought of him. She thought she would never see him again. And she certainly never thought he would be rescuing her once again either.

“He brought you back Sansa. What happened to you? What do you remember?”

Her mind went back to the last thing she could remember. That man, her scratching his grey face, her shoulder popping out of place, the blinding pain as her hit her with a rock.

She chilled at the memory, but told her brother what she could remember. “But the Hound left with the group going to the Wall. How did he get to me?”

“He says your captor rode past the group. Says no one would believe him, that the man had you. So he left them, got an arrow in him for it.”

“And the man?”

“He told me he killed him.” Sansa was in shock, but Robb continued. “Sansa. If I didn’t listen to you, if I had taken his head, you could be- you would be-“

“Don’t.” Sansa didn’t need him to finish the thought. She knew what would have happened to her. She had seen it in the man’s eyes.

“I’m going to reward him.”

“Who?”

“ _The Hound_ , Sansa.”

She was confused. Maybe it was the headache. “Why?”

“Because he brought you back. He saved your life, more than once now if I understand correctly.” Sansa nodded.  “Besides, we shouldn’t punish Jon. He has enough to deal with at the Wall.”

Sansa laughed, a weak one, but a laugh all the same. She could imagine Jon Snow and Sandor Clegane together at the Wall. Both so stubborn. _They would tear each other apart._

Robb’s eyes remained on Sansa, the rims were reddening again, like the last time they spoke.

“Sansa. I-“

“Robb, don’t.”

“No.” He grabbed her good hand. “I am _so_ sorry. For everything. For leaving you here for so long. For not sending anyone for you.”

“It’s alright Robb, you are here now. I wasn’t thinking when I said those things.”

“Sansa, you were right. I never thought about what you were going through, what was happening to you. How you had to deal with father’s death on your own. Pretend to be happy to be here. What it must have been like to be forced to marry the Imp.”

Sansa looked down at their hands. She knew she was right. She just didn’t know if she was relieved or more upset to hear it out loud.

“You might be the only sister I have left.” He said. Sansa looked up, her eyes filling with tears. “Tomorrow, I’m sending out four different search parties, four different directions. Someone is going to find Arya-“ He stopped. She knew what he wouldn’t say – _alive or dead._ “We will find her. I swear it, Sansa.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Share with me your thoughts!!!


	14. Chapter 14

Robb 

The next day, he gathered his small council for a meeting, and decided it would be a good place to address Sandor Clegane.

Rickard Karstark was the most vocal of the group on the matter. “He’s Joffrey’s dog, and you want to reward him? How can you even trust him?”

“My sister spoke for his life. You all saw.”

He ignored Roose Bolton as he rolled his cold eyes.

“If she hadn’t where would she be right now?”

The men at the table hung their heads, understanding. Robb looked at Grey Wind, standing like a statue to his right. “I owe him my sister’s life. I’ve learned that she might be in a different state, had he not been here all along. To me, that means he can do as he pleases. Have what he wants.” Robb was stern. Unyielding.

He could feel the collective judgement radiating toward him from around the table.

“Let him in.” At his orders, the doors opened and in hobbled Sandor Clegane. Robb never really took the time to look at the man before. But as he slowly limped along, Robb let himself look. The Hound was a beast of a man- that much was clear. His reputation for a fierce and formidable fighter preceded him. He towered over the other men in the room, all except the Greatjon of course. But somehow, he _seemed_ bigger. The only man who could truly compete with his impeding mass was his brother, the Mountain. Robb supposed now was as good a time as any to tell Clegane about that. Besides his size, there was obviously his face. The ruined mess of scarred, roasted flesh that ate up the left side of his head, disappearing under his long dark hair where Robb knew only a hole was left in place of his ear. There were rumors about how the Hound got his scars- from a burning battlefield early in his life, from a fire in his bed when he was a boy. Robb didn’t know the truth, and he really did not care. The Hound stopped in front of Robb, bowed as best he could.

“Your leg?” Robb asked. “How is it healing?”

“Slowly, Your Grace.”

“Why did you do it?” Rickard Karstark suddenly grumbled, almost accusingly.

The Hound moved his head slowly to look at Lord Karstark. He tilted his head to the side, confused. “Pardon my Lord. But are you asking why I chose to save the kidnapped sister of the king, a girl who could not defend herself in any way, who would have been beaten, raped and most likely killed had I not decided to chase after her?”

Robb watched Lord Karstark slink back in his chair, defeated.

“I wanted thank you for your actions Clegane. You saved my sister, when you owed us nothing.” The Hound only blinked, nodded once, waiting. “She has informed me that this is not the first time you have helped her. Tell me. What else have you done?”

Clegane sighed, seemingly reluctant to speak. “There was a riot in the streets the day Myrcella left for Dorne. After I got Joff back to the keep, he didn’t care what happened to her, but I went back. A man was pulling her from the saddle when I got to her. Cut off his arm and brought her back.” He stopped.

“Is that all?”

He shook his head.

“Please, continue.”

“I stopped her from trying to push Joffrey off the battlements when he made her look at your father’s head on a spike.”

Inside, Robb flinched. But he did not show it.

“You should have let her do it.” The Greatjon barked. “Would have been a swift war.”

“She would have fallen herself. I saw it. Even if she managed to stay on the ledge, they would have killed her right there.” He looked back at Robb to continue. “I never beat her like the others. Gave her my cloak when Joff had her stripped naked in front of the whole damn court. Saved her a lot of pain besides, telling her to do as she was bid. Not to fight back if she could help it.”

Even after all of that, Robb could tell that there was something he was holding back. But he decided that was enough, not to push it any further.

“Thank you Clegane, truly. For everything you have done.”

“I didn’t do it for you.”

Robb saw Roose Bolton turn toward him from the corner of his eye. Again, he ignored him.

“I would like to honor you with a reward. If there is anything I can give you, gold, whatever you would like. If it is in my power to give you, you may have it.”

The Hound took a second. Robb could practically see his mind churning through his eyes. When he finally spoke, Robb did not think he heard him correctly. “Let me be her sword.” All of the men at the table turned toward the man. “Her sworn shield.” He could swear Grey Wind’s ear even perked up at the statement.

“Why? I’m offering you gold, you can return to your home, wherever you would like.”

“I figure I might stay. No desire to go back there. Anyway, I think I’m rather good at keeping your sister safe, seeing as I’m the only one who’s been able to do it for the last few years.”

Robb sat back in his chair. He gritted his teeth. “I’ll ignore the slight.” He mulled it over for a moment. “You would swear your life to protect hers?”

He nodded.

“You failed Joffrey in that, didn’t you?” Roose Bolton finally spoke.

“Never swore to him.”

Robb was confused. “But you would for her?”

He nodded again.

 _He’s not wrong is he?_ Robb thought. _He has been the only one to protect Sansa while she’s been here alone._ He did seem to care for Sansa’s safety. And there is no doubt that he would be able to protect her no matter what. He couldn’t tell what it was, but although he didn’t know The Hound, couldn’t trust him yet, he oddly enough _did_ trust him with the safety of his sister. _He certainly would be an improvement from the fools who lost her._ Thinking about the way she shouted at him to save Clegane’s life, Robb didn’t think she would mind either way.

“I will ask Sansa. If this is something that she would approve of, you will have your wish.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

“You may go. I’ll tell her right away so you have your answer quickly.” Clegane bowed again and went to head out the door. Then, Robb thought of something.

“I killed your brother. Did you know that?”

The Hound stopped, turned around on his good heel. He looked at Robb, shook his head.

“Does that change your mind? About wanting to protect my sister? For the rest of your life?”

Clegane took a breath. “No.” He decided. “I just wish I could have done it myself.”

He gave a curt nod and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weeeee!!!! This one was fun to write. Hope it was fun to read!!!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its so strange to think that I only started this thing on Tuesday night and now its Saturday afternoon and I have over 100 kudos and 2600 hits. I never thought I would get more than like ten kudos haha. Thank you all so much for reading. This has been so much fun. And I really hope you are enjoying this, because this story has barely gotten started. Oh and if you are on tumblr, find me! - fancykidmd :)
> 
> Thank you thank you thank you!!  
> -Megan

“He what?!”

Sansa was still in bed. It was a full day after she returned when Robb came to her. She still could not sit up. The maester was monitoring her sleeping patterns and he wanted her to take it easy after sustaining such a head injury. But when Robb told her that Sandor Clegane asked to be her sworn shield, she shot up out of bed, only to be immediately punished by the agonizing throbbing that still remained in her head behind her eye. She moaned from the pain as Robb helped her lie back against the pillows. “Why would he want to do this?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Catelyn started, from the corner of the room. “He’s a turncloak. Only after what will be best for him. He will turn on us in a second, I know it.”

“I offered him anything he wanted mother.” Robb argued. “He could have taken the gold I offered to leave the seven kingdoms, start a new life, do whatever he wanted. But this is what he chose to do.”

Catelyn remained unmoved. “Being sworn shield to a beautiful princess is too much reward for a man like him.”

Robb and their mother continued to argue. But Sansa remained silent. _Princess? Does she mean me?  - Of course she does. My brother is King in the North. That would make me a princess._ Why hadn’t she thought of it before? It's just that no one has yet referred to her as such. Sansa didn’t know how to feel. For so long, she dreamed of being married to Joffrey, becoming his princess and someday his queen. When he cut off her father’s head, any such thought had been violently thrust from her mind. Never once, in her dreams of being rescued by her brother, did she wonder what would happen to her after. _Princess of Winterfell._ She closed her eyes. The words sounded beautiful together. She just never thought that they would refer to _her_. Her mother and Robb were still arguing. Her head was still spinning and throbbing. She didn’t want to hear anymore.

“Stop.” She nearly yelled. The both turned to her. “Its up for me to decide, is it not?”   

Robb nodded, encouragingly. Catelyn clenched her jaw, folded her arms and turned away.       

“You have a sworn shield, Mother, why shouldn’t I?

“Brienne is an honorable woman, from a good house. You cannot compare her to the Hound.”

Sansa hadn’t seen much of Lady Brienne, on account of her being confined to a bed for the most of the time Robb was here. But her mother told her everything on that account. Sansa had never seen a woman like her before. She was almost as big as the Hound, and unfortunately not much better looking. But her mother was right, she was honorable. Sansa could see it immediately.

“And what purpose does Brienne serve?” Sansa asked.

“To protect me, whatever the cost.”

“Sandor Clegane has done that for me, time and time again.”    

Catelyn had no response for that. Robb approached her. “Do you feel safe with him Sansa?”

Again, Sansa found herself thinking of all of the times he had helped her. How she would be glad when it was him who would escort her to wherever she had to go. How she still kept his cloak in her trunk. How he even- _no_. She wouldn’t think about that night. _Not ever_. How whenever she would panic in the dark of night, memories of him would be the only thing that could calm her down. And now he wanted to keep her safe, to protect her. Officially.

“Yes.” She finally answered.

“Good. It’s settled then. Once you are both healed, we will have a small ceremony to make his vow legitimate.”

“Ceremony? Vow?” Sansa laughed. “He will never agree to that.”

“He already has, Sansa. You are a princess now, you know. He has to if this is what he wants.”

She shook her head in disbelief. _Who is this man Robb is speaking of?_ “That’s right, he was injured wasn’t he? When he rescued me?”

“Yes. He’s healing well I’m told.”

“Good.”

“In the meantime, you just stay here and get better.”

* * *

It was almost three days before Sansa was able to stand on her own. Almost a week before the maester approved her well enough to go back to her regular days. Her head still felt heavy, and it took her a minute to steady herself after she stood, but that was all she could ask for. She still wore a sling for her shoulder, keeping her left arm pinned against her chest, something Shae was having difficulty with when getting get dressed.

It just so happened that the ceremony would take place on Sansa’s first day out since the incident. Shae put her in one of her favorite gowns, made of dark green fabric. It wrapped around her slim waist snugly and made her hair shine bright, the color even more red than usual. Sansa had to maneuver her arm in a very awkward way in order to get it into the sleeve, and Shae could have been a little more gentle.

“Ow! Shae, please try to be careful.”

Shae sighed and put her hands on her hips. “My arm came out of place once too.”

“Did it? Oh isn’t it so awful?”

“Yes. Do you know how I fixed it?” Sansa shook her head. “I slammed it into a wall. Good as new.” She raised her eyebrows to Sansa. After that, Sansa felt stupid putting the sling back on. She supposed she didn’t have to use her left arm so much today, anyway.

Once the gown was laced up tight, Sansa ironically felt like she could breathe better. She stood up straight and felt like herself again.

Shae had finished braiding her hair back in the northern way and was beginning to try to cover up the scab on her forehead when her mother came to the room.

“Don’t you look beautiful.” She said with a smile. Sansa realized she hadn’t seen a real smile on her mother’s face since they arrived. “When you are ready, Brienne and I will escort you down to the sept.” Brienne waited at the door. She smiled and dipped her head toward Sansa. Sansa thought it strange that after today, Sandor Clegane would be the one to escort her. Everywhere. He would always be there, _just like Brienne is for Mother_. Sansa couldn’t believe this is what he really wanted, but she was ready.

* * *

 

They arrived at the sept at dusk. Sansa realized that she hadn’t been here in months. She stopped going to the sept when none of her prayers to the seven were answered. She started going to the godswood again recently, actually praying to the old gods of her father, _right before Robb got here_ , she suddenly realized. There were only a few other people in the sept. Robb, of course, a few of his trusted guards, Lords Bolton and Karstark, and the septon. Sansa walked over to Robb, who directed her to the septon.

“Stand here, Princess.”

Sansa scrunched her nose at his words as she stood on one of the steps leading to the altar. She noticed that she was not standing as high as she did for her wedding to Tyrion. At that thought, the doors opened, and in walked Sandor Clegane.

She hadn’t seen him since she spoke for his life. But he’d seen her. Robb told her what he had done. _He’d known I was the one on the horse. Killed that man with bound hands and brought me back to my family. And all the while I was unconscious._ She felt a heat come to her cheeks, almost like she had drunk too much wine, when she thought of the two of them sharing a horse on the long ride back to the city.

He leaned heavy on his right leg as he walked toward her. When he came to where she stood, Sansa got a good look at him. He seemed so out of place here in the sept. _I wonder if he has ever set foot in a sept on his own accord._ He was clean and so was his armor. His hair was combed to the side, covering the bulk of his scar. He still looked down on her, with those steel grey eyes, even though she was standing on a step high than him. Her mind wandered back to that night when he came to her. He was so close to her now. She could reach out her hand and touch him if she wished.

“You may kneel.” The septon’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

Sandor knelt, slowly, on his good leg.

The septon continued. “Sandor Clegane, you kneel here, before Sansa of House Stark, Princess of Winterfell. You would be her sworn shield, her guard, her protector, from this day, until your last.”

“I would.” He rasped.

“You may swear it.”

He pulled his sword from the scabbard with expert hands and laid it at her feet.

“My sword is yours. My life is yours. From this day, until my last. I swear it, in the light of the gods.”

She stopped breathing for a moment. She stared at him, her eyes wide. _This is really happening_. Just a few days ago, she thought she would never see him again. Now here he was, kneeling at her feet, promising to be there for her, every day, for the rest of his life. She looked up and everyone was looking at her, waiting. After a moment, Sandor looked up at her. She was reminded of the time, so long ago, when he knelt before her. He wiped the blood from her mouth, gently, after Ser Meryn had hit her. She realized there really was no one better to be her sworn shield.

She looked at him. Looked in his eyes. She just nodded to herself, agreeing, accepting his vow.

“Rise then, Sandor Clegane.” He did. “You are now blessed, by the Seven, as sworn shield of the Princess, Sansa Stark.”

* * *

 

They had a small feast afterwards. Her brother, mother and some of the other lords. Throughout the entire meal, Sansa was almost uncomfortably aware of Sandor’s presence. He stood near Brienne at the wall behind where she was sitting. She couldn't see him, but she good feel him.  She could feel his eyes on her. She was happy to accept the wine that kept coming. If there was one thing she learned from her time as Tyrion Lannister’s wife, it was how to drink. She made sure she kept her glass full. It was helping ease the ache in her shoulder anyway. It was when she was having it filled for the third time that her mother put her hand on hers.

“Maybe that’s enough now dear?” Catelyn worded it like a question, but Sansa knew it was a command. With Tyrion, Sansa found that the only way to get through any appearance she had to make was by keeping her cup full. But her family was here now. She didn’t have to be uncomfortable. She didn’t have to force conversation. She put her cup down and sat back. She looked at her plate, she had barely eaten anything. All of a sudden, she was very tired.

“I think I’ll go to my room now.” She stood, a little too fast. She was dizzy from the wine, as well as the bump on her head. She grabbed on to the table to steady herself, and hoped no one noticed.

Robb stood, and so did the other lords. “Goodnight then Sansa. Sleep well.”

She smiled at her brother and turned to leave.

And there he was, standing in her path. Sandor bent his head toward her as he offered her his arm. Sansa was nervous to take it, but knew she would make a fool of herself wobbling out of the room on her own. She gave him her hand. He placed it on his arm. They walked, slowly, toward the door.

They kept their pace, and silence, as they walked through the halls, up the stairs and to her rooms.

When they got to her door, he released her arm. She felt like it was on fire. Suddenly the silence was more than she could take. She looked down at her hands.

“I never thanked you. For saving me.”

“I could say the same.” He said, quietly.

She looked up at him, in his eyes. “Thank you.”

He just nodded, once.

Sansa still felt that there was more to say. “I will have to be addressing you now, by your name.”

“I suppose.”

She didn’t know what made her say it. Maybe the wine. “You don’t believe in the gods, do you?”

To his credit, he did not look surprised by her question. “No.”

She tilted her head. “So how do I know your vow is true?”

“You’ll just have to trust me.” He opened her door. She walked inside and turned around. He looked at her for a moment. “Goodnight, little bird.”

Her face was hot, it must have been as red as that bird she saw in the woods. _Too much wine,_ she thought. She swallowed. “Goodnight Sandor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn. Long one. Took long to write too, but I am pretty happy with the outcome. How about you?!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness. I made a boo boo. I never posted Chapter 16!! That's why I was confused and titled the other one 17! Gah! Okay so if you haven't read 16 yet, hopefully 17 will make more sense now. SORRY!
> 
> -Megan

Sansa

Sansa had been followed almost every day since she arrived in King’s Landing. She always knew that she was being more watched than protected. Sansa hoped that having her own sworn shield, she wouldn’t feel so uncomfortable all the time. But having Sandor Clegane be there at every moment of every day was almost worse. Sansa hadn’t done anything or gone anywhere other than to meals with her family, or to the godswood. But he was always there. Sansa had never even actually caught Sandor staring at her, but she was uneasily aware of his presence at all times. _Maybe it is because he is so big, he just fills up so much of the room wherever we go. He can’t really hide away anywhere can he?_ She thought more than once.

Robb still waited on a word from Daenerys. Sansa was beginning to lose hope, but she would never say that to Robb. Sansa often wondered, what would happen if Daenerys does not accept? Will Robb stay here? She knew he didn’t want to. Robb wanted to go home just as badly as Sansa did. What would happen if he did have to stay? What would happen to Sansa? For years all Sansa wanted was to be with her family, to go back to her home. Only now was she realizing that this wish could mean two different things.

One night, Sansa woke up in the middle of the night. It was one of her regular nightmares. Her dress was ripped down the back, Meryn Trant had beat her with the flat of his sword. Joffrey sat on his throne, staring down at her, a smile playing at his mouth. As she often did during these nightmares, she would look at the Hound as he stood next to the king, always staring straight ahead, never even glancing toward her. Usually, she would look at him and the nightmare would fade away to black. But when she looked to find him this time, he wasn’t there. She woke with a start to complete blackness. She felt around for the candle she kept on the side of the bed while trying to keep her breathing calm and steady. She found the candle and lit it. Once she caught her breath, she counted on her fingers. She realized it had been four days since she remembered to light the candle at night _. Four days since Sandor swore his life to mine._

* * *

 

A few weeks later, Sansa woke up to the sounds of the bells tolling. She jumped out of bed. _What happened?_ It was still too early for Shae to be there, _probably too early for Sandor too_ she thought. She found the simplest dress she had, one she could lace on her own, and did so quickly. She did not bother running a brush through her hair. She opened the door and almost ran right into Sandor. He caught her before she could, his hands wrapping tightly around the tops of her arms.

She looked up at him, questioning the bells in her mind. He seemed to know what she was thinking. He shook his head. Sansa wanted to run to find Robb, but she knew Sandor wouldn’t be able to yet, not while he was still healing. She went as fast as she could without actually running, Sandor keeping pace just slightly behind her. As Sansa listened to the bells more closely, the almost sounded joyous, like when Margaery’s baby boy was born. _Not at all like the bells when Tywin had died._ As the door to Robb’s solar came into view, she ran. She burst through the door without thinking. It was empty. Sandor got to her as she went running out of the door. _The small council._ She didn’t wait for Sandor now as she ran, her hair fanning out behind her wildly.

When she finally arrived, she was out of breath and her legs were aching. The guard at the door got out of her way and she entered on her own.

He was there, so was her mother and the small council. They were all standing around the table, hovering over scrolls, books, maps and papers. The maester was scribbling furiously on parchment as Robb spoke. He turned to her as she ran in.

“It’s Daenerys. She accepted.”

Sansa let out a breath. A sigh of relief she realized. It felt like a heavy weight immediately lifted off of his shoulders. She could only imagine the relief Robb was feeling. He was smiling. A true smile.

“The bells.” Sansa panted.

“A celebration. I will tell the city at midday, they will be happy their queen is returning.” Robb said.

“Does this mean we can go home?”

Robb shook his head. “Not just yet. She won’t be here for another few months. She has to be ready to leave Meereen. She must set up a ruling system that will work without her there. She must plan, prepare, that may take some time. Besides, bringing dragons across the narrow sea does not seem to be an easy task.” He laughed, so did the Greatjon Umber.

Sansa realized she was out of place.

“We will discuss it later Sansa.” Robb said, not unkindly.

That was when Sansa noticed the others staring at her. Roose Bolton had his nose turned up at her, clearly not trying to hide any disdain toward her. Her mother looked at her, horrified. Only then did she notice that she had not bothered to put on shoes. She looked down at her feet, now covered in dust and dirt. Her hair fell in front of her face, she turned as she heard Sandor enter the room. He looked annoyed, but not tired, not out of breath the way she had been.

“Right.” Sansa said. “Sorry. I will see you later.” She turned and watched her dirty bare feet move quickly across the stone floor toward Sandor. He held the door open for her as she sped through.

Sansa couldn’t believe that she was going to meet Daenerys Targaryen. To see dragons. She had never been a great fan of the old stories that way Arya and Bran had. Her heart panged at the thought of her siblings, how much they would love to see dragons. They loved the stories of the Targaryens. She couldn’t believe that she was actually going to meet one, and just wished her siblings were going to be there to witness it.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright sorry about all of the confusion. This really was supposed to be 17! I'm just the doof who forgot to post 16! So make sure you read them both if you haven't yet! Thank you!!!!
> 
> -Megan

Sansa

Of all the things she was expecting, Sansa never saw this coming.

“There must always be a Stark in Winterfell.” Robb told her.

“But _me?_ ” Sansa was shocked.

“It’s the only option that makes sense Sansa.”

“Can’t- Can’t you come with me?” She knew it was a stupid thing to ask, but she was desperate. Robb shook his head. She looked at her mother. She did the same. “Robb needs me here, Sansa.”

“It’s true.” Robb continued. “You’ve been saying for weeks that you want to go home.”

“Not alone. Not without you two.”

“Sansa, I know you know our home well enough to run it.”

“I wasn’t born for this Robb. That was you.”

“I know. But you can do this for a short amount of time. You have grown so much. You’ve proven that to me.”

She shook her head, not believing that this would work. A little part of herself was disappointed about not getting to see Daenerys. The Dragons.

Robb went on. “Maester Luwin is there. Holding everything down for us. He helped father, me and Bran. He will help you too. Just until I get there.” She was still unconvinced. “You will be traveling in a party of about thirty. You’ll have a wheelhouse to bring you there. It should be a very comfortable journey.”

“I don’t have a choice, do I?” Sansa realized.

“I need you Sansa.” He ignored her question. “Now that I know I will be here for another few months, I need you to do this for me. We have so many men out there looking for Bran, Rickon and Arya. But Winterfell has been without our family for far too long.”

Sansa put her face in her hands. “Alright.” She mumbled.

Robb ran to her, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her on the forehead.

“Thank you, Sansa. You will do so well. You are going home. Be happy about that at least.”

Sansa kept a hand over her mouth. How would she ever be able to do this on her own? Run the country’s largest Kingdom on her own? She was not even eighteen years old, but now she was going to be walking in the shoes of her brother, her father, with just Maester Luwin to guide her. _It won’t be for too long,_ she tried to convince herself. _And you will be home._ She thought of Winterfell’s snows, the warmth of the walls. How badly had she wanted to return, to leave this hell of a capital. _Maybe the nightmares will stop once I am in my own bed at home._

“Only one more thing.” Robb said.

“What else could you ask of me now?”

“Help mother plan a ball. A celebration for the wars ending, for Daenerys accepting.”

She smiled. “Of course, Robb.”

In the days leading up to the ball, Sansa found herself quite busy. Robb left the planning of the ball to both her and her mother. It wouldn’t be too big, Robb decided. Just a celebration for the Lords and Ladies of the North and their other alliances. Once they were all on their way, she got to work. They planned a menu, nothing too elaborate like Joffrey and Margaery’s wedding. They decided on a standard seven courses. They would have wine, of course, and simple music and entertainment for dancing. They really did not need any performers. Sansa loved seeing all of the different samples of fabrics and linens, flowers and centerpieces. More than once, Sansa caught Sandor rolling his eyes as she swooned over the pretty things. She didn’t care though. She didn’t care if she was acting like a silly girl. She was having fun being busy, having something to do for once in her life. The week before, people started arriving and filling up the castle. When she wasn’t planning the ball, she was planning for her travels home. She told both Shae and Sandor on the same day. Shae had a choice. _But did Sandor?_ Shae did not look happy, but she accepted, claiming that while helping Sansa was a pain, she wouldn’t be able to stand anyone else. Sandor barely even reacted. As if he knew all along. It was strange. Sandor had never shied away from talking to her before, to tell her the truth. _But he was usually drunk_ , Sansa reminded herself. She always recalled him smelling of it. Sansa supposed she wouldn’t really see him when he was drinking now anyway, and that he must do it when she was not around, after he walks her to her room at night.

* * *

 

On the night before the ball, Sansa was exhausted getting last minute things together. When she was finally finished, Sandor walked her back to her room.

“Goodnight Sandor.” She said, the way she did every single night.

“Goodnight.” But something was different. Sandor had a strange look on his face.

“What is it?” She asked him. “Tell me.”

“It’s the ball.” He closed his mouth, looked away, fighting himself.

Her heart was beating faster. “Sandor. Tell me.”

“Its not just a celebration. It can’t be. Who is invited to the ball?

“The Lords of the North. The Freys, the Tullys, every great house who was on Robb’s side during the war."

“And their sons.” He said.

“Well, of course.”

“Little bird.” He half-laughed at her, sadly. His eyes full of pity. And then she realized.

“Oh.”

He nodded.

“They’re here for me.”

“Yes.”

Once again Sansa found her head in her hands. She began pacing her room. “How could I have been so _stupid?_ Of course.” She slammed her hands down on the table. “ _Of course!_ It all makes sense.” She moaned, and it turned into a laugh. “How _dare_ they! After everything I’ve been through and they think they can treat me as another pawn in their game?” Then Sansa remembered one of the first things her mother said to her when she arrived. How her being a widow would be easier than getting an annulment. Easy to get remarried, that is. She couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t breathe. She needed to, to –

Sansa ran to the bed and grabbed her pillow. She smashed the pillow into her face and screamed into it. She had never done anything like that before, but it helped. It felt better. _Not better, just manageable._ She breathed hard against the pillow until her breathing steadied and she calmed. Then Sansa heard the scuffing of boots against the ground. She slammed the pillow back on the bed and looked up at Sandor, who was smirking at her.

“I’m sorry.” She said, almost under her breath. “I forgot you were there.” She felt all the blood in her body rush to her cheeks. She walked over to the door where he waited.

“Thank you for telling me. At least I won’t be walking in there like a fool tomorrow.

He just nodded.

“I can’t believe this. I can’t believe they are even thinking about marrying me off. Already! I-“ she stopped. After seeing what he just did from her, Sansa did not need to talk to him about this anymore. It was quite inappropriate, she realized.

“I’m sorry. Again.” She grabbed the door to close it. “Goodnight.”

He leaned his head toward her. “Goodnight, little bird.”

Sansa undressed herself. She went to the table and poured herself a glass of wine, which was gone in the next minute. She lit her bedside candle and climbed into bed. So much had changed in such a short amount of time. One day she was prisoner of Joffrey and wife of Tyrion Lannister. Now she was the widowed Princess of Winterfell, with the Hound for a sworn shield and a line of men waiting to marry her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so last two chapters obviously setting up some good stuff. Just started brand new grad classes. 4 days a week, working the rest of the days. Its funny, they say happy graduation, now you all have to take two more summer classes and then you can actually be done CONGRATULATIONS! Anyhoo, vent over. Might take me a little longer than I thought. Thank you for reading! Will be more fun to read next chapter I promise!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I've officially only been doing this for just a week and I have 4,000 hits. My mind is blown. I swear I never expected to get more than 50 and that was even stretching it for me. I love you all. Thank you for being patient for this one. Also, if you haven't read both chapters 16 and 17, they are there for you. I messed up, as per usual, but now everything is where it is meant to be. Okay PSA over! Enjoy this beast!
> 
> -Megan

Sansa

Before Sansa arrived in King’s Landing, she never imagined she would dread going to a ball or a great feast. She dreaded Joffrey’s wedding. She dreaded her own, even though she didn’t have much time to think about it. And now she dreaded the ball that she hoped would be a celebration of her family reuniting, the war coming to an end. She was to be twirled and passed around between the young lords like a pretty little object for them to play with.

She did not want to speak to her mother at breakfast, but it came out anyway.

Catelyn was rattling off about all of the last minute plans and changes for the ball. She barely even noticed Sansa glaring at her. Sandor stood behind her by the wall with Brienne.

“I know why we are really having the ball.” She finally said.

Catelyn looked up at her. “Of course you do dear. We are celebrating!” She took a sip of her tea.

“Celebrating my still being a virgin?”

Catelyn coughed, her tea spurted out of her mouth, in a most unladylike way. She grabbed her napkin to cover her mouth. “Sansa!” She swore she heard gruff laughter underneath the cough Sandor gave

“It’s true. I know it is. This ball. It’s just to sell me to the highest bidder.”

“Sansa. What a horrible thing to say!” Her mother was aghast.

“It’s true. You can’t even deny it.”

“The ball was never made for that purpose, Sansa.” She almost looked like she believed the lie that she told. “But if a match were to come out of it for you, I don’t see how that is a bad thing!”

“Have you ever thought about what I want, mother?” She didn’t give her a chance to respond. “I don’t want to be married. I never want to be married again!” Sansa had never even thought about this before, not until Sandor told her about the ball. After Tyrion, she just never imagined herself being with anyone at all. Now that he was dead, the last thing she wanted was to be sold off to another man like that again. After that first night when he had tried to bed her, she never wanted to imagine what it would be like if it actually happened. No matter how handsome, how gallant and brave. Sansa realized that just is not the life she wanted.

“Sansa. I am not telling you that you have to marry one of these men. But I think you should be courteous and dance with them, just as you would have anyway.”

“And what if I don’t show up?”

Her mother sighed. “Then I will have Sandor carry you down.”

Sansa gasped. “Mother!”

“You planned this ball Sansa. You are the Princess! You will be there to support your brother if nothing else!” She stared at her with her hard eyes, her mouth in a straight line. Sansa imagined she looked exactly the same staring right back.

“Ugh!” Sansa moaned. She stood up, dropped her napkin onto the table and walked out of the room, Sandor trailing right behind her.

* * *

 

When Shae came to help her get ready, Sansa had pulled out the ugliest, stiffest brown wool dress she had. She left it on her dressing table.

“Where is your dress, princess?

“Right there.” She pointed to the crumbled ball on the table. Shae went over to it and shook it out. Then she started laughing.

“It’s not funny.” Sansa yelled. “That is what I’m wearing.”

Shae just shook her head as she continued laughing. She went to her wardrobe and pulled out the dress that Sansa had originally had prepared for the ball.

“I’m not wearing that. I will rip it if you try to put it on me.”

“You’ll do no such thing and you know it!” Shae laughed. “You love this dress. You would never want anything to happen to it.”

Sansa was so angry. Angry that she had to go to the ball. Angry that Shae was right.

“Well put it on then.”

Shae rolled her eyes. Sansa held onto the bed post as she was tightened into her corset. Shae slipped the dress over her head, put her arms in the sleeves and tied up the laces on the back. Sansa walked over to the mirror and sighed. It was one of the loveliest dresses she had ever owned. It was a very light blue shade, cut of heavy silk. The neckline, hem of the skirt and the edges of the sleeves were embroidered with fine silver vines and leaves. The blue brightened her the red in her hair, the blue of her eyes. It showed her shape perfectly while still remaining quite modest. Shae worked her hair into an elaborate braid which she then wrapped around the back of her head, leaving her long neck open and clear.

“There.” Shae said, with the placement of the last pin. “Now that is how you are supposed to look for a ball.”

Sansa just rolled her eyes. She knew it. She looked beautiful. The perfect Northern Princess. She looked longingly at the brown lump crumpled on the floor. Shae slipped on her shoes and helped her to the door. She let out a frustrated breath and kept her eyes on the floor. Shae smacked her, lightly, on the back, threatening her to stand up straight. She rolled her eyes as she looked up and saw Sandor. His eyes were wide as they caught hers, just for a brief second, then he looked away. Sansa sighed for the thousandth time of the day and stomped out of the room. Sandor fell in step behind her, silently. The more and more she thought about it, the men there waiting for her, the fake smile that would be plastered on her face all night, the more and more angry she got. She stopped and whipped around. Sandor almost walked right into her.

“Why did you tell me?” She spat at him.

His face turned from surprised, to annoyed. “Didn’t think it was right, letting you walk in there unaware.”

She looked up at him, suddenly calm. “You always told me the truth about things, didn’t you?”

All he did was blink.

“Thank you.”

* * *

 

The hall was filled with over three hundred people. It took Robb, Catelyn and Sansa almost an hour to greet everyone. Sansa could not keep track of all of the people she met. After about fifty, her face ached from smiling and she stopped listening to their names. Karstarks, Mormonts, Boltons, Hornwoods, Umbers, Freys, Manderleys, Flints and more. When they finally sat for dinner, Sansa couldn’t have been more relieved. She was able to make last minute changes to the seating chart. She sat herself between her mother and Dacey Mormont. Thankfully, both Dacey and Catelyn were more preoccupied with their other companions for the evening. Sansa entertained herself by pushing the food around her plate and drinking wine. She was on her fourth cup by the time the lemon cakes came out for dessert. Sansa stared at the small piece on her plate, fighting the emptiness of her stomach with the anger. In the end, her love of the sweet won out and she finished the slice in just three bites.

“More wine.” She called out to the server.

Her mother turned to her. “Sansa, maybe that is enough-“

“Don’t.” She snapped at her. She kept her eyes on her mother as she sipped from the glass.

“Sister.” Sansa didn’t even notice that Robb had walked over to her. It was the first time she would be able to speak to him about the situation. “May I have this dance, please?”

Sansa nodded as she drained her cup. “Of course. _Brother.”_ She said through gritted teeth.

They were the first couple on the floor, as tradition would have it. Sansa was light on her feet, her head just the slightest bit dizzy. The music started and so did they.

“So, who have you signed me up to dance with first?”

“Sansa, don’t.”

“Oh I will.” She stepped on his foot. He grunted, but barely stumbled.

“Sansa. Don’t make a scene.”

“Don’t worry Robb. I will make a scene. I will put on the act of the most perfect princess, the most dutiful daughter, the most obedient sister.”

Robb’s eyes were sad as they danced. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Sansa remembered that Robb was one part of an arranged marriage as well. _It’s not completely his doing._ Sansa thought. _It’s just the way things are, the way things have to be._

Maybe it was the wine, but Sansa soon found herself laughing with her brother as they danced. The more he spun her around, the louder she giggled, and Robb did the same. Sansa _did_ love to dance. _And it had been such a long time._

She didn’t even mind when one of the Frey’s stepped up to take her for a spin. She forgot his name only seconds after he reminded her of it. She didn’t listen to him as he spoke his pleasantries. She just listened to the music with a smile on her face. As the night went on, she was passed around between a dozen different men. Freys, Karstarks and Manderleys alike. She even danced with her uncles Brynden and Edmure. One young Frey did manage to stomp on the hem of her dress several times, but for the most part, they were all agreeable partners. She sneaked in another cup of wine when she could, downing the glass fast. It was the only way to keep her going. She admitted to herself that she was drunk after she lost count of the glasses. But she didn’t care. Especially when the next suitor came to her. The man was large, slumped over with pale, blotchy skin. He wasn’t old, but there was something off about him. He certainly did not look like a very good dancer. In her hazy mind, she knew she had met him earlier, but she could not for the life of her remember who he was. He seemed to tell that on her face.

“Ramsay Bolton, princess.”

Sansa knew who this man was. A _new_ Bolton, that was for sure. She had heard that Robb had naturalized Roose Bolton’s bastard shortly after retaking Winterfell from Theon Greyjoy. Even though his lips were wormy, just like Joffrey’s, she decided to be courteous. He was a bastard after all, _like poor Jon,_ she thought. She wouldn’t want anyone to turn away from Jon because of that, _even though Jon is much better looking._

“Of course.” She said with a smile. She gave him her hand. He placed a kiss on the top of her hand. His wormy lips were wet and left a mark on her hand. His eyes were like chinks of dirty ice as they watched her during their dance. Sansa felt uneasy under his gaze and was anxious for the dance to be over. Halfway through their dance, she noticed Sandor for the first time of the night. _I almost forgot about him._ In her mind, Sansa was pulled away from this Ramsay who held her, just a little too close. She realized that she had never seen Sandor dance before. Then she imagined him, on the ballroom floor dancing with a beautiful partner. In her mind, he was a wonderful dancer, even with his size. She wondered if he was actually that good. _I wonder if he has ever even danced in his life._

“Princess?” Ramsay Bolton’s sharp voice pulled Sansa out of her reverie. The song had stopped, but Sansa still felt that she was spinning.

“Oh.” She said softly and she started to fall. Before she could slump to the ground, strong hands pulled her to her feet. But they were not attached to the man with wormy lips. Sansa’s head was spinning, but she focused on his mouth. It was small, but his lips were so plump. They looked like actual worms. All of a sudden, his face started turning. His hair, becoming lighter. And then he was Joffrey.

“No.” Sansa moaned as she covered her eyes with her hands. “Not him. Please.”

“Alright little bird, back to your nest.” She opened her eyes, Joffrey was gone, and a new song had begun. Sandor was the one holding her up, holding her steady.

“Sandor.” She smiled and looked up at him. He wasn’t looking at her. Sansa could feel his left arm around her waist, his right hand under her right arm. The music faded away and the lights dimmed to just patches along the wall. Her feet weren’t even touching the ground.

“Oh Sandor.” She whispered. “I knew you would be a beautiful dancer.”

Sansa heard a familiar laugh in the distance as the lights faded away and her eyes reluctantly closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was so much fun to write. Sansa's a little brat and I love it. Let me know what you think! And as always, thank you for reading!!
> 
> P.S. - Sansa passed out again (surprise surprise). Gonna have to find someone else to narrate the next chapter. Hmmm..... I wonder.....


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of your comments crack me up. Like when I read them I actually laugh out loud. Keep them coming! And thank you for reading!!!

Sandor

The past few weeks as Sansa Stark’s sworn shield were either the best or worst in Sandor’s life. He couldn’t be sure. On one hand, he didn’t have any time to drink. And he was _bored_ beyond measure. He found himself being irritable during the day, until he walked her to her rooms at night and was able to go fill himself with wine. On the other hand, being Sansa’s sworn shield was an improvement to being Joffrey’s dog. He never realized how much he liked being called by his real name, until she was the one saying it. Yes, he had to do trivial things like watch her argue with her mother, watch her pray in the godswood, watch her swoon all over flower arrangements. But at least he was watching _her_.

On the morning when the bells tolled, the last thing he was expecting was for her to do what she did. He wondered if she had ever gotten dressed on her own. Her dress wasn’t even laced up completely, not as tightly as it should have been. It slipped from her shoulder as she ran ahead of him, but she didn’t even notice. Her hair was a wild mess from a fitful sleep. Looked like fire as it whipped around behind her. And she was barefoot. _Gods._ With every step she took, he saw that the bottoms of her feet were getting more and more filthy as they kicked up behind her. He could never imagine her walking barefoot in her rooms, let alone running that way through the whole damn castle. At that moment, Sandor thought he had never seen anything so beautiful in his life. That was until the night of the ball.

Sansa seemed to take longer than usual to get ready. But he supposed she would want to take extra time for this sort of thing. When she came out, he just couldn’t help himself. He stared at her, unabashed, with wide eyes. He was glad she wasn’t looking as he took in the sight of her. Sandor couldn’t recall ever seeing her hair off of her neck like that. Her skin was so white and clean. Her eyes were bright, like clear blue pools that he could stare into for days. It was the first time, he realized, that he looked at her and saw nothing of a child. This was a woman grown. And the most perfect one he’d ever seen. When she looked up, she looked right into his eyes. Glaring at him. He looked away as quickly as he could, knowing that she noticed him staring. When she spun on him, he was prepared for an excuse as to why he stared. He realized when she spoke that she was angry at the situation she was about to find herself in, not at him for staring.

Sandor kept out of sight as she greeted her guests. He watched her stare at her food, glaring at it as if it was offending her. The anger and disdain on her face was more… _adorable_ than anything. He kept track of the glasses of wine she had. It was eight and a half before he had to take her away. The half glass was from when she pulled her it away as the server was pouring the wine. She didn’t even notice as the wine spilled all over the floor. Sandor managed to have a few cups himself. He found himself laughing under his breath as he watched her during the night. She was clearly drunk. Sandor had never seen her like that before, and she was unbelievably entertaining. Her face, her neck, were flushed from the dancing, from the wine. She smiled and laughed. He hadn’t seen her so happy since before her father was killed.

He had been watching this Bolton bastard all night. The way he skulked about the room. The way he looked at all of the women, especially Sansa. He was dreading watching the two of them dance together, but he made sure to keep extra attention. The bastard held her much to close as they danced, something he would never get away with had she been sober. He got closer to them and he saw that Sansa noticed him. As they spun, she kept turning her head toward him, smiling. He found himself smiling right back at her. When the song ended, Sansa still swayed. _She’s about to go down_. He walked as swiftly as possible to her, trying to avoid causing a scene. He got to her as soon as she was about to fall, and grabbed her right around the waist.

“No. Not him. Please.” She whined.

Sandor was confused. _Does she mean me?_ He shook his head, reminding himself of her mental state at the moment. “Alright little bird, back to your nest.”

He tried to hold her up in a way that didn’t make it completely obvious that her feet were off the ground. He caught Robb’s eye on the way out. He nodded at him, a clear thank you.

Once they were in the hall, she started speaking.

“Oh Sandor. I knew you would be a beautiful dancer.”

Sandor couldn’t help himself. He laughed out loud. When he did, her body went completely limp. He didn’t miss a beat as he lifted her up into both of his arms. They were out of sight now.

“Hmmm…” She murmured, putting her head against his chest.

As he looked down at her, he noticed that he had stopped walking. He shook his head again, and continued his way to her room.

“Who taught you to dance then, Sandor?” He thought she had fallen asleep, but she must have just blacked out. She continued. “Was it your mother?” Sandor’s body stiffened. “I’m sure she was a lovely dancer.” She giggled to herself. Her voice was so quiet he barely even heard her. “Did she give you your eyes?” She breathed. “Your brother didn’t have your eyes. That’s how I knew you were different than him.”

He couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of her mouth. She had never spoken like this to him before. He supposed that people have no veil when they are drunk, _but why would she be thinking about these things?_

He got to her door and pushed it open with his foot. _Right. No Shae_. He couldn’t, in good conscience, leave her on her bed like this. Slowly he placed her down in a chair. He went over to her bed and pulled the covers down. He turned and looked at Sansa. She was now fast asleep, slumped over in the chair. Her perfect lips parted ever so slightly. She wouldn’t be comfortable in that dress. _No._ He wouldn’t do that. _She’s already sleeping, she’ll be fine._ He walked over to her knelt down and slipped off her shoes. Her feet were red from dancing, swollen from the wine. He grabbed her by the waist, his hands almost wrapped all the way around her. He still could not believe how very small she was. _So light. So fragile, just like a little bird._ Sandor lifted her and walked her over to the bed. He laid her down, pushed her legs under the covers, and pulled the covers over her and up to her chest. On second thought, he turned her on her side toward the edge of the bed, lest she get sick all over herself.

Before Sandor left, he poured a glass of water and left it on her bedside table. He found an empty chamber pot and left it by the head of her bed. _She’ll be needing that, that’s for sure._ He sighed as he stood up straight and looked at her. Even a drunken mess, and she was still perfect. He got to the door and heard her murmur again. He knew he should probably just leave, she had embarrassed herself enough already. But he stayed.

“You’ll always keep me safe, won’t you Sandor?”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement of fact. She knew the answer, but he gave it to her anyway as he shut the door. “Always, little bird.”

As soon as he closed the door, Sandor was in search of wine. He needed to straighten out his head. _What in seven hells was she talking about?_ He tried to tell himself that it was just the wine talking. But then he remembered the first day he really spoke to her, when he told her about his face. He had been so drunk when Joffrey asked him to return her to the keep. And he told her everything. The story of how his brother had smashed his face into the brazier when Sandor played with his toy. He had never told anyone else about that before or since. _I told her I would kill her if she told, and she never did_. If he had told her that truth much when he was drunk, could what she said to him tonight be on her mind often?

The sound of two men talking in hushed tones pulled him out of his thoughts. They were around the corner and he stopped to listen to them.

“I have it on good accord that they will give her to me. I’m sure of it.”

“Of course, he owes your family that much at least, even if she is a widow.”

Sansa. He slowly peeked around the corner. It was Ramsay Bolton, talking to another man he didn’t know. The bastard had his back to Sandor where he stood. He kept listening as he continued.

“Yes there is that bit to deal with.”

“Do you believe what they say? That she is still a virgin?”

“Does it matter? I doubt that the dwarf could have done much damage to that sweet cunt of hers. Nothing compared to what I will do.”

Sandor stopped hiding. He turned the corner fully and walked up behind him. His friend was laughing so hard that he didn’t even notice until Sandor stood just mere feet behind Ramsay. Sandor held the hilt of his sword and stood up as straight as he could. Ramsay’s friend stopped laughing and saw him. He gasped. Ramsay turned around, his eyes even with the top of Sandor’s chest. Slowly, he looked up, and the smile died on his face. Sandor said nothing. He just stared down at him. Ramsay’s lips closed. Sandor could see the fear in his eyes for a quick moment, before he caught himself and laughed.

“Joffrey’s dog! How is our sweet princess?” His smile returned, crooked and wet lipped. Still, Sandor said nothing. He turned around, and strode down the hall, not looking back. Tonight, he would be standing outside of Sansa’s door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god I hate the c word but I hate Ramsay more and of course he would say it. Sorry. Had too. But dear lord, drunk Sansa needs to shut her mouth! amiright?!!?


	20. Chapter 20

Sansa

Cotton.

Sansa never put cotton in her mouth, but she imagined this is what it would feel like.

She opened her eyes, turned her head and vomited over the edge of the bed. _Shae is going to kill me,_ she thought as she slowly sneaked to see the mess she made. She looked down, and saw a chamber pot, which now contained the contents of her stomach. _Shae had clearly prepared for the worst_. And the worst it most certainly was. Sansa had never felt so awful in her life. Her headache was almost as bad as it was after her abduction. Her eyelids felt like they were glued together. And her mouth. _Gods,_ her mouth was as dry as the desert in Dorne. She looked over to her bedside table, and thanked the gods, for there waiting for her was a glass of water. She grabbed it with shaking hands and gulped it down furiously, spilling some on herself in the process. She looked down and noticed that she was still in her dress. Shae was strong, but she doubted she would be able to undress her as a dead weight. At least she had taken off her shoes. Sansa flopped against the pillow and moaned. She grabbed another pillow and smashed it over her face, hiding her eyes from the light. _What happened last night?_ The last thing she remembers was- _dancing with Sandor? That can’t be right._

Someone knocked on the door.

“Aaaarghhhh…..” She half moaned from under the pillow.  _Did they need to knock so loudly?_

“I’ll take that to mean you are awake.” It was Shae.

“Shaaaeee.” Her handmaiden laughed at her.

“I heard you were the star of the ball last night. If only they could all see you now.”

“Don’t. Please. Not helping.” Her stomach churned. She moved the pillow from her face and was sick again.

Shae came over with the pitcher of water and filled the glass. She put her hand on Sansa’s shoulder and handed it to her. Sansa drank deeply again and handed back the glass. She gently laid herself against the pillows and closed her eyes tightly.

“Thank you. Thank you for helping me into bed last night. For the water, the chamber pot. I must truly have been a mess.”

Shae giggled. “I wasn’t here last night princess.”

Sansa opened one of her eyes. “What?”

Shae shook her head. “I was asleep. Quite early actually.”

“Then who-“ Sansa caught herself. Shae just shrugged and bent to pick up the chamber pot to clear it away.

Sansa closed her eyes and moaned. _Sandor._

Sandor had helped her out of the ball last night. _You didn’t dance with him you fool! He just half-carried you back to your room._ And took off her shoes. Tucked her into bed. Placed the chamber pot in the right place on the floor and poured her a glass of water for her dry mouth. And now she would have to see him today. Who knows what he would have seen last night. She couldn’t look at him. Wouldn’t. She didn’t know what she might have done, what she might have said to him. She couldn’t picture it was anything worse than her imagination.

Sansa was glad she had almost everything packed and prepared for the journey tomorrow. She would need to rest today.

* * *

 

At midday she finally found the strength to leave the bed. Shae brought her a bath and helped her bathe. She washed off the sweat that had dried on her skin over the night. When Shae left to fetch more hot water, Sansa sunk down into the water with her shame. Her fingers were so swollen. Her feet too. Shae told her it was from the wine. She had never noticed that before when she drank. _How much did I have last night?_ In her mind, Sansa imagined she was the most graceful and beautiful woman at the ball. But what if she wasn’t? If she drank so much that she couldn’t remember Sandor helping her into bed, then maybe she acted like a fool at the ball. _Mother and Robb are going to be angry. They will think I did it on purpose._ The next thing she knew, Shae was yanking her out of the water.

“How long have you been under there?!”

“I don’t know, since you left?”

“I’ve been gone for almost five minutes!”

Five minutes! That must be a new record. Sansa thought to herself. She wasn’t even counting like she usually did when she held her breath.

But Shae was still yelling. “Do you have a death wish? Still?! You are safe now! Returning home tomorrow. I won’t be accompanying you if you are in a box!” And she dumped the clean water over Sansa’s head.

When Sansa left her room for supper, she did not look at or even acknowledge Sandor. She just walked straight through the door and kept her head down as he followed her. She would not address the awkwardness of the situation. She just kept imagining him dealing with her last night. If she thought they had danced together, did she say something about it? She didn’t want to think about it anymore, but her mind was torturing her.

She was so thankful that the silence would be broken when they reached the dining area. She opened the door. Why did no one cut me off last night? I was almost sick all over that-“ _Bolton bastard._ Thankfully she didn’t finish her statement out loud for both Bolton and his bastard stood around the table with Robb and her mother.

“I’m so sorry. Hello Lord Bolton, Ramsay.” She curtsied.

“Princess.” Lord Bolton said. They bowed toward her. She was aware of all eyes on her as she strode toward the table. She kept her eyes on Robb. She hoped that he was able to grasp that she was throwing daggers at him in her mind. He looked like a sheep being led to the slaughter, which is what in reality, Sansa was.

Sandor stepped ahead of her before she sat down. His back to her, he faced Ramsay as he slowly pulled out her chair.

She sat. “Thank you Sandor.” He said nothing as he pushed her closer to the table. He’d certainly never done that for her before. _What in the seven hells is going on today?!_

When she looked across the table at Ramsay, he was looking up at Sandor. He almost looked- _scared?_ Definitely uneasy.

Catelyn broke the silence as the first dish was served. A soup. “Well, how did everyone enjoy the ball last night?”

Robb laughed. “I know I had a wonderful time. Although I doubt anyone could say they had a better time than Sansa here.”

The Bolton’s laughed, Sansa forced one of her own, a nervous one at best. And so commenced the most uncomfortable dinner Sansa had ever shared with her family. Her stomach was still weak and feeling the pressure of Ramsay’s gaze on her just made it worse. She pretended to eat, but mostly sipped from her glass of water, praying that her stomach would ease itself. Sansa remembered how uncomfortable she was dancing with Ramsay last night. He held her much too closely. She thought of the wet mark his wormy lips left on her hand and she had to swallow back the bile that rose from her throat. If Robb actually imagined that she would have anything to do with this man, he was seriously mistaken.

“Well, Your Grace. I think it is time you share with Sansa the good news.”

Robb took a sip of his wine glass. Gulped and forced a smile on his face. “Right.” He looked at Sansa. She shook her head, she didn’t care if they noticed. “Sansa, I am happy to tell you that Ramsay and a few of his men will be joining you on your journey home.”

Sansa took a breath. And made her face light up with a smile.

“Wonderful!”

When Ramsay spoke, she felt chills up her spine. “It is my desire to remain close to you during this journey Princess Sansa. See you home safe and sound.”

She swallowed. “Of course. How kind.” She looked toward Robb, his eyes were apologetic. But she would hear no apology from him.

Once dinner was finished, she caught him at the door. She waited until the Boltons were far enough away down the hall before she started.

She lunged at her brother.

“How _dare_ you! How could you do this to me!?” She clutched him by the collar and pounded at his chest. After a few hits, he grabbed at her wrists.

“Sansa! Sansa listen to me.” He tried. But she still fought. “Lord Bolton forced this on me Sansa. I couldn’t refuse.”

“ _Of course_ you could have refused. You’re the _king.”_

“You don’t _understand._ He has helped me more than anyone. He believes his son has more right than anyone to marry you. We figured this would be a good way for you two to get to know each other without much pressure.”

Her mouth was wide. “He’s a bastard Robb!” She felt guilty saying it, as the sister of a bastard, but it was true. Even if Ramsay was naturalized, she would still be lowering herself by marrying him. And isn’t that what Robb wanted to avoid?

“Sansa please. I’m not saying that you have to marry Ramsay. Just, think about it. A possibility. Get to know him. In the end, this will be your choice. But you have to try first. Please.” He was begging her. But she didn’t care.

“I’m not marrying him Robb. It would _never_ be a possibility. I’m sorry but you will have to find someone else. Anyone else.” She turned and left.

* * *

 

Robb 

Robb watched his sister leave. His shoulders slumped. He knew it was wrong to spring it on Sansa this way, but she was in her room all day and he didn’t want to disturb her. He didn’t know what to do.

He looked up. “Sandor.” The Hound approached him. He thought they had been alone. “I apologize, I didn’t realize you were still here."

“I swore a vow to her. To protect her. You were there. You saw."

“Of course.” This is not what he was expecting. “What is it?”

“If you force her to marry him, you will lose your alliance with Bolton."

“What? How?”

Sandor spoke very slowly, very calmly, and very clear. He looked as if he was holding back an outburst of something. Anger? Aggression? “I have to keep that vow. I will have to protect her, no matter what. And I will have to kill him.”

Robb was completely taken aback. “How could you say such a thing?”

“You didn’t hear what he said.”

Robb stopped. “What did he say?"

Sandor shook his head. “Trust me. It was enough.”

“Tell me.”

After a brief moment of hesitation, Sandor told him. As he did, Robb felt his hand curl into a hard fist.

“That sick _bastard_.” He knew the way men looked at his sister. He knew she was beautiful, that men must desire her in that way. But he could never give her to someone who said, who thought such things. He had trusted Roose Bolton. He knew he was a strange man coming from a family of sick and twisted customs. But he had _trusted_ him. And he repays him with trying to pawn off his even more twisted son onto his sister? The princess?

Sandor just stood there, breathing. Robb could now tell that he was absolutely seething.

“Thank you Sandor. I will handle this.” He strode toward the door, but stopped. “I am going to speak to Bolton. Why don’t you go break the news to Ramsay? He will not be accompanying my sister _anywhere_. He will never presume to speak to her, to look at her, _ever_ again.”

Sandor nodded. “Gladly, Your Grace.”

“Good.” He stopped again. “Oh and Sandor?”

“Yes, Your Grace?”

“Make sure Sansa _never_ finds out about this.”

“Never.” Sandor agreed.

And with that, Robb left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooooh someone bout to be in trrroooubblleee!
> 
> Also, hungoverSansa might be more fun than drunkSansa. Idk what do y'all think?


	21. Chapter 21

Sandor

It wasn’t hard to find Ramsay. Sandor could hear his voice from halfway down the hall, before he even saw him. He was talking to yet another friend. _Man sure likes to brag doesn’t he?_

“Won’t be too long now. As soon as we get to Winterfell we will be married. We’ll return to the Dreadfort, and I’ll put a baby in her right away. Show her what the imp couldn’t.”

Sandor didn’t wait to hear more. “Thought you might have learned to stop running your mouth. Should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy for you.”

Ramsay turned and smiled widely as Sandor. “Dog! Ah, I do hope we can be friends. We will be spending quite a bit of time together on the road!”

Sandor felt a smile creep onto his face. “I have orders from King Robb. He wanted me to tell you that you will not be accompanying the Princess on her journey home.”

Ramsay’s eyes went wide, but he kept that smile on his face. “Of course I will. You heard from the King just now. _My father_ has seen to this arrangement himself.” Ramsay took a step closer to Sandor, but he did not move from where he stood. “And when we’re on the road, I will make sure I am by pretty Sansa’s side, at all times. Soon enough, she won’t be needing you anymore. Her _loyal hound_.”

“Things have changed, as luck would have it. You will not be coming.” Sandor repeated. His muscles were taught, ready for whatever Ramsay had planned. Ramsay laughed as he stepped even closer to Sandor.

“If Robb doesn’t want me to go, then he will have to come and tell me himself, _dog_.”

“ _King_ Robb wanted me to be the one to inform you, _bastard_.” At that, his smile was gone, but Sandor’s grew wider.

“This couldn’t have _anything_ to do with our brief encounter last night, could it?”

“But you said it yourself. I am her _loyal hound_. For me, that means I must protect her, at all costs, from the likes of you.”

Ramsay reached for his sword at his side, but he was too slow. Sandor saw it coming, and already had the point of his sword at the bastard’s throat by the time Ramsay got his hand on his.

“Do it.” Sandor goaded. “I would love for you to give me even more reason to bring the Princess your head. Go on. _Do it_.” Ramsay slowly released the sword from his grasp and put his arms out to his sides. Sandor continued. “You are not to touch her, speak to her, or even look at her again.” He twisted the sword under his throat. “Or I might just have to try what you Bolton’s rave about.” Ramsay’s head tilted back. “Flaying. I wonder... “He moved the tip of the sword slowly up Ramsay’s face, until it laid right underneath his left eye. “Do you know what it’s like to feel the skin slip from your face? To leave the flesh, bone and blood open for the world to see?” He smiled. Ramsay looked back at him with true fear and disgust. It was times like these that he appreciated the scars he had received.

“Ramsay.” His friend pleaded. “Let’s just go.”

“Go. Do as your friend says.” Ramsay backed away and Sandor lowered his sword. “One more thing. Since I am always with the Princess, if _I_ should ever see you again, then this new agreement is over. And I will kill you where you stand.”

Sandor turned and left without another word- off to another sleepless night outside of Sansa’s door. 

* * *

Sansa

Sansa could not fall asleep. The candle was burning very low, and she didn’t have another. She wanted to get to sleep before it was out, otherwise she wouldn’t get a wink of sleep in the dark. When she had come back to her room, she broke down and cried, her anger all but worn out on Robb. Her mother tried to open the door, but she didn’t respond. Sansa felt guilty about it now, but she would make sure to say goodbye in the morning. _How could they do this to me?_ How was she going to manage spending all of this time with Ramsay? The man that gave her chills and made her sick to her stomach. The man who reminded her so much of Joffrey. She fought with herself for the better part of an hour, trying to convince herself not to do what she was about to do. _What if I don’t wake up before Shae comes in? What if she sees?_ But Sansa needed to sleep and knew this was the only way. She creeped out of bed, silently, as if she was being watched. She snuck over to her trunk and knelt down in front of it. She lifted the lid as slowly as she could and grimaced as it creaked loudly. She dug down deep, past her old dresses, shifts and small clothes to the thick wool that lined the bottom of her trunk. She grasped it and pulled, not caring about the mess she made with the rest of the garments. It took a moment and some effort, but she managed to get it out. The white cloak was still stained with blood and smoke. But Sansa didn’t care. She dropped it and pushed the heavy trunk toward the door. She hoped the sound of Shae struggling to open the door would wake her up in the morning, give her enough time.

She shook the cloak out of its folds and wrapped it around herself. It was still big enough to enclose her entire body. She ran over to the bed and jumped on top of the covers. She held herself in a tight ball and closed her eyes. Sansa could remember the last time she did this. She could remember that night like it had just happened. Every single detail. But she wouldn’t let herself think of that. She was already having too much trouble falling asleep.

As she curled up underneath the cloak, she thought about how far she had come from the last time she needed it. She was in a completely different standing. She was safe. She would be going home tomorrow. As for Sandor, his role in her life hadn’t changed since then, not really, he had just made it official. He had always looked out for her, protected her. She could only imagine what he would think if he could see her now, huddled underneath his filthy old cloak that he had dropped on her bedroom floor almost three years ago. She wondered if he even remembered that night, or if he was too drunk. Instead of fretting over Ramsay’s wormy lips, she let herself be brought back to that night. She kept her eyes shut as she imagined Sandor’s face, just inches from hers. And soon enough, before the candle burned out, she was asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sighs* 
> 
> goodness all around


	22. Chapter 22

Sansa

Sansa’s eyes opened to a faded light. Dull. She heard the scratching of heavy furniture on the stone floor. The trunk at the door. _Good. It worked._ She snuggled her head deeper into the warmth of the cloak, unwilling to face the day.

 _The cloak!_ She shot up like an arrow, throwing the white cloth off of her face and body as if it were on fire.

“Princess!” Shae called. “What is going on?!” She still struggled on the outside of the door. Sansa grabbed the cloak and rolled it into a ball. She ran to the trunk and stuffed it in, deep down to the bottom. She used all her might to move the heavy trunk out of the way of the door. When Shae got in she looked angry.

“What are you doing?”

“I- I must have moved the trunk there in the middle of the night.”

Shae looked at her sideways, but seemed to think better of pushing the issue.

“Well we need to take the trunk, its time to go!”

“Already?” Sansa whined. She wasn’t ready to leave yet. She needed more time with Robb, her mother. The longer she could prevent this journey, the better.

Shae nodded. “Put on a robe, they are coming to take everything that we’ve packed.” So she did. Men came and took all of her belongings until there was nothing left in the room that was hers other than the dress that Shae had laid out for the first day’s journey. Shae helped her wash and dress. She worked Sansa’s hair into a long simple braid, from the top of her head to the tips of her strands. It would be out of her face and would stay put in the wind. Sansa was moving so slow. She did not want to go and would do anything she could to slow it down. _Maybe he will get annoyed and leave without me_ , she foolishly hoped.

Once they were ready, Sansa turned to look at her room. She was wondering if she would feel any nostalgia, but she didn’t. She never wanted to see any part of that room again if she could help it. And she wouldn’t have to now.

Sandor was there, of course, though she had nearly forgotten. He would be leaving now too. She wondered how he really felt about that, but was still too embarrassed from the night of the ball to even look at him.

When she finally got to her mother and brother, she didn’t know how to react. She was so angry at them for Ramsay, but she was going to miss them so much. She only had about two months with them after all of those years. And now she was going home without them, not to see them for who knows how long?

Robb broke the awkward silence. “Sansa, I have good news.” She didn’t say anything. If it was anything like Lord Bolton’s _good news_ , she didn’t want to hear it. Robb went on. “Ramsay won’t be going with you.”

Sansa immediately felt the weight of the earth lift off of her chest. Then suddenly, a sob broke through from underneath and she ran to him. Robb opened his arms and held her tight. Catelyn came over to join them. She softly rubbed Sansa’s back as she cried. Sansa couldn’t believe she was getting so emotional, but it was all just so much. So much emotion, up and down over the last few days, weeks. Now it felt like it was coming to an end, now that she was going back home to Winterfell.

“Why?” She asked him, once she calmed down.

The answer came from behind her. “His Grace thought about what you said, realized that you were right.” Sansa turned around. Sandor went on. “He told the Bolton’s right away that he changed his mind.” Sansa turned back to Robb.

He nodded at Sandor. Swallowed. “It’s true. You were right. There is no reason for you to spend any time with that sort of man. You will find another more suitable suitor, I’m sure of it.”

She hugged him again. “Thank you.” She kissed him on the cheek and he laughed.

“Instead, we’ve arranged for you to make a stop at the Twins. You will stay there for a few days, meet my wife and rest in a proper bed before you continue on to Winterfell.”

Sansa smiled. “That sounds wonderful. Truly. I can’t wait to meet Roslin!”

Robb smiled back at her. “I’m going to miss you sister.”

“I’m going to miss you too Robb.” She turned to Catelyn. “ _Mother!”_

"I feel like I just got you back! And now here we are, saying goodbye again." Her mother was a red-eyed, blubbering mess.

Sansa ran to her and laughed, all out of tears at this point. “You’ll be home in no time at all, right?”

“I may have to steal a dragon to make it there as fast as I can.” Sansa could barely picture her mother on a horse, let alone riding through the sky on one of Daenerys’ great dragons. They both laughed and held each other tightly.

When they were ready, Sansa held her mother’s hand as they walked to the stables. She heard a familiar sound of struggle as they approached. When the scene came into sight, she shook her head.

 _Again?_ Sansa didn’t think. She let go of her mother’s hand and ignored her warning. She could have sworn she even heard Sandor call out too. Sansa strode right up to the war horse, remembering from the last time. “Stranger.” She said softly. “Whoa. Stranger. Shhhh.” He settled on his front legs and snorted. Sansa walked up to him, closer than last time. She reached up her hand to pet him in between the ears. He sniffed her with his huge nose. It made her laugh. Stranger found the end of her braid with his teeth and pulled at it. She gasped and snatched her hair out of his mouth. He harrumphed and it made her laugh even more. She turned around as she did to see half the yard staring at her with wide eyes and mouths. She couldn’t tell who looked more shocked; her mother or Sandor. She decided it was probably the latter. Suddenly she felt a redness rise to her cheeks. _Why were they all staring?_ She turned to pat Stranger on the nose before heading back to her family.

Shae spoke first. “Princess, I had no idea you were so good with horses.”

Sansa just shrugged. “Alright, well, I guess we had better get going then.” Now that Sansa didn’t have to worry about Ramsay, she was actually excited to get on the road.

Her mother and Robb hugged her tightly once more and told her to write often, to which she agreed.

The wheelhouse was very large, but it looked even bigger with the all of the luggage on top of it. A good percentage of it was hers. But Sansa wasn’t ready to go inside it yet. It was such a beautiful morning, she decided she would like to ride her chestnut to start out the journey. Shae decided she would ride inside though. The rest of their party of thirty was ready to go. A few loyal nights, a few serving people, and many of Robb’s loyal retainers. Sansa mounted her horse, watched Sandor as he jumped onto Stranger, and waved goodbye to her family as they faded away behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> awwwwerr how nice. welp time for some more fun stuff to happen! cue maniacal laughter.


	23. Chapter 23

Sansa

Sansa never imagined that she would love life on the road as much as she did. She loved feeling the breeze through her hair, being out in the open air. She loved the crisp, clean smell of the forest. She loved watching the trees and birds go by whenever she sat in the wheel house when her legs were tired from riding. She liked talking to the men in the party. They were very kind. Very respectable. She could tell why Robb chose to send her with these men. One of the few knights, a young Hornwood named Darol, was especially fun to talk to. He was very handsome. His eyes were brown, like his hair. He had some freckles on his face, like Sansa did. He told her jokes and stories from battling with Robb. She found his company very agreeable as he was very carefree and easy to talk to. Easy to laugh with.

Sansa also liked spending time with Stranger. She seemed to be the only one to be able to calm him. Even Sandor was having issues with him. Sandor was another issue entirely. She only spoke to him when she couldn’t avoid it. Even then, she made sure it was extremely formal. She still could not remember anything that she had done or said that night after the ball, and she did not care to ever find out.

During the first week, they were able to stay at two different inns on different occasions. On those nights, Sansa was so tired from the day that she fell asleep after her first cup of wine. The beds weren’t feather, but it was warmer inside than it was in the wheel house. On the other nights, she slept in the wheel house with Shae while the others pitched tents surrounding it. Sansa found it difficult to fall asleep without a candle, but there was a fire outside of the window. The sound of Shae’s breathing helped too, knowing that she wasn’t alone. After about a week on the road, Sansa woke in the middle of the night to the darkness and the sound of Shae’s crying.

“Shae?” She whispered into the darkness. Shae just kept crying. Sansa slipped from under her covers and padded over to where Shae slept. She pulled the covers open. She could see Shae’s outline as she scooted over and made room for her. As soon as Sansa laid down, Shae wrapped her arms around her, her face laying on her chest as she cried harder than before. Sansa tried to calm her as Shae’s tears soaked through her nightshift. After several minutes, she calmed slowly and soon she was asleep. _What in seven hells is wrong?_ Sansa thought.

By the time Sansa woke up in the morning, Shae was already gone. After dressing herself, she asked around to everyone to see if they have seen her. _Maybe she went for a walk._ Sansa found herself walking through the wood. She knew she was safe to be on her own. Her party had searched through the surrounding forest before setting up camp. She knew not to go too far. Where had Shae _gone?_

Even though winter was coming, the sun was hot. The hair at the base of Sansa’s neck was wet with her sweat. She heard a stream in the distance. It would be nice to step into the water, maybe splash her neck a little to cool down. Sansa followed the sound to the opening of the trees and saw the water. It wasn’t too wide, just about eight feet or so across. She slipped off her shoes and left them on the grass before stepping into the pebbles that lined the edge of the stream. The small rocks dug into her bare feet, but it felt good to feel earth under her toes. She stepped into the water and gave a little gasp. It was cold. But after a moment it just felt good. It was the perfect temperature to cool her down before she continued looking for Shae. Sansa lifted the skirt of her dress to wade in further. She turned to make sure no one was looking before pulling her skirt higher. She gathered the fabric in one hand just above her knees. Slowly, as to not lose her balance, she bent over the cool, slowly rushing water. She cupped her hand and brought it to her neck, pouring it over her neck, looking down into the water so she wouldn’t soak her dress. She did this a few times until she finally felt her body cool.

She was feeling much better and was about to continue the search for Shae when she heard it. Splashing. Moving in the water. It was close to her because she could hear it so clearly, but she couldn’t see anything. She looked around and found a low hanging branch with willowy vines almost reaching the water’s surface. Sansa’s curiosity got the better of her. She shrunk down as she walked over through the water, still holding her skirts. The branch was high enough that it and its vines and leaves would hide her completely from whatever was on the other side. She crept up slowly as to not make any sound. What she saw was certainly not what she was expecting.

The first thing she noticed were the clothes that laid in a pile by the edge of the water. Tunic, breeches, boots, sword, all. Then she saw _him._ _Sandor._ Where he stood, several yards away, the water was deeper. The water line hit him, very low, at the waist. He was _bathing_. She realized. _He was naked_. She realized slower. His back was to her, but she still knew it was him. Sansa tried to swallow, but found it difficult. Her mind was trying to pull her away, not to look. But she did. Something inside of her, something stronger, was telling her to stay. She could hear her heart beat in her ears. The only man she had ever seen without his shirt was Tyrion. Other than that, just her brothers when they were little and swimming in the warm pools in the godswood. And what Sansa saw was certainly nothing like that. Her eyes ran over his back, the muscles in his shoulders. They were strong, taught with the cold temperature. From where she stood, she could see pink marks all over his arms, his shoulders, and a few at his sides. _Scars_ , she realized. _Knicks from battle or training._ Nothing like the burn scars he had.

She watched the suds from the soap slip down his broad shoulders, his strong back and into the water. She followed one patch of bubbles as it laid on top of the water, flowed with the stream toward her, under the branch and broke apart as it hit her bare legs where she stood in the water. Sansa stopped breathing. The thought of anything that had touched him, like that, now touching her, made chills go up Sansa’s spine. Not the kind like Ramsay gave her. Different. Much, much different. She felt something inside of her that she had never felt in her life. Her stomach fluttered, her heat beat faster. Much too fast. She, slowly, looked up to see him again. He had turned in her direction. She gasped and dropped her skirt into the water. But he still did not see her. He was bending over to splash his face with clean water.

And then it was over.

“Princess?”

Sandor stopped moving, his hands over his face. Then abruptly he dropped them to look in her direction. Sansa dropped down, squatting in the water. Her dress a soaked through mess.

She turned to where the call came from. Shae stood at the edge of the stream, the most confused look on her face.

“Sansa! What are you _doing_ in there?”

Sansa shook her head furiously, put a finger to her lips, pleading for Shae to be quiet. Shae got the hint but she clearly did not see Sandor. _Thank the gods_. Sansa tried to get out of the water without making too much sound. Her skirts were so heavy now that they were wet. Shae reached to her and helped her out. As soon as she was on grass, Sansa ran. She thanked the gods Shae didn’t say anything else as she followed quickly behind her. Sansa kept in the tree line until the wheel house came into sight. She looked out to make sure no one was paying attention and she ran for the door of the wheelhouse. Once Shae was in, she slammed it shut behind them.

“What the fuck were you doing?”

“Shae!” Sansa was appalled. She had never heard Shae speak like that before.

“I saw him Sansa. I saw the Hound.” Sansa’s face reddened. She could feel it. “What were you doing? Looking at him like that?!”

Sansa put her face in her hands. She shook her head, trying to get the image out of it, but she couldn’t. Wouldn’t. “I- I- I don’t know!”

“Sansa…” Shae looked at her. A smile started to peak at the side of her mouth. _No._ Sansa wouldn’t let her start with whatever she was thinking.

“Where were _you,_ Shae!?”

“Me?”

“Yes! I woke up and you were gone.”

Shae rolled her eyes. “I was relieving myself if you must know.”

“So far from camp?” Shae just shrugged. Sansa softened her voice. “And what was that last night anyway? Why were you crying?”

Shae looked at her like she wanted to rip off her head.

“Don’t you ask me about that. It was inappropriate of me to cry like that. And I don’t want you ever thinking about it again.”

“But- Shae.” Sansa pleaded.

Shae just shook her head and sat down. _Well,_ Sansa thought, _at least she forgot about what she saw me doing, for now._ Sansa sighed. She couldn’t think about that right now. She looked at Shae. Over the past few days, Sansa realized that Shae was the closest thing she had in this world to a friend. She also thought of something else.

“Shae.” She looked up at her. “You were just calling me Sansa.”

Shae’s eyes went wide. “I’m so sorry Princess. I’ll never-“

“No!” Sansa stopped her. “Please. I prefer it. Call me by name from now on.”

Shae looked apprehensive. “Are you sure?”

“Yes of course!” She smiled. She knew Shae wasn’t going to tell her what was wrong, not yet anyway. She would work on it at another time. Sansa changed the subject. “Alright then, what are you waiting for? Help me out of this wet dress!”

As Shae helped her, she thought about what she just saw. How it made her feel. She didn’t know what to do with any of these new feelings she had experienced. The only thing she knew is that he better not have found out that she was watching him. _Gods._ First he had to carry her drunk self out of the ball. What would he think if he knew she had been watching him bathe? She couldn’t let herself think of that. _He couldn’t have heard what Shae said. He couldn’t have heard my name._ No matter the case, Sansa decided that she would be riding in the wheel house today. She did not want to risk coming across him. Him asking questions. She felt a pit open in her stomach at the thought.

Before the party began moving, she just wanted to step into the forest to relieve herself once more. She had never done anything so un-lady-like in her life, but after a week, she had gotten used to it and now it was nothing at all. She slowly opened the door, hoping to see a clear passage to the trees. She did. She put her foot out the door and onto the step. She stepped on something though. She looked down. On the step laid the shoes that she had been wearing that morning. The ones she had left by the stream as she watched Sandor bathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooooh shit hahahaa I wonder who put them there!!! 
> 
> P.S. Sorry that one took a little longer than I thought. My drunk friends decided to come over for an hour and I thought it would be rude to ignore them completely as I wrote about sudsy Sandor hahahaa
> 
> P.P.S. Tell me what you think. Sing me a song. Tell me allll your thoughts. Love hearing what you guys have to say.


	24. Chapter 24

Sansa

Sansa stayed in the wheel house all day long. Even when they stopped midday to rest the horses she did not move. Words could not express the sheer embarrassment Sansa felt. As far as she was concerned, she was never leaving the wheelhouse. Much to her disappointment, they had come across an inn just before nightfall. That means she would have to go inside. And Sandor would be escorting her inside. She moaned when she heard the knock on the door. Shae looked out the little window.

“Its Ser Darol.”

“Oh.” That is not what Sansa was expecting. She smoothed her skirts and walked to the door. Darol stood at the foot of the step. He looked up at her, his face even more handsome when he smiled.

“I’ll see you to the inn, Princess.”

Sansa smiled. An honest one. “Thank you Ser Darol.” She stepped down and took his arm as he offered it. As they walked with Shae behind them, Sansa heard a sound she hadn’t heard in a very long time. Wolves. Howling. In the distance. She stopped. They howled again, louder, closer.

“Don’t you worry Princess. You’ll be quite safe inside tonight.”

Sansa didn’t say anything. She wasn’t afraid. But she didn’t want to tell Darol what she really thought. For a brief second, Sansa had the urge to go find them. To run into the woods and howl back. But she realized how foolish that was as soon as she thought of it. Sansa hadn’t heard wolves howl like that since the day Lady was killed. She pictured her brothers’ wolves to be the ones in the woods. Nymeria too. At the thought of Nymeria, Sansa felt a pang of guilt. She hated thinking about that day. They day she and her sister both lost their wolves. Sansa shook her head and stopped thinking about it. The wolves in the wood were wild. They would tear her to shreds if she got close. Still, hearing them howl, it was almost like a sign. Like they were getting closer to the North. A welcome, almost.

When they got inside the inn, Darol led Sansa and Shae up the stairs and to a room. He opened the door for them. “Clegane came in first to reserve the room for you two.”

It took Sansa a second to figure out that ‘you two’ meant her and Shae, not Sandor.

“Great. Thank you Darol.”

He bent his head toward her and left.

Shae looked at Sansa. “Shall I order you a bath Sansa, or was this morning enough?”

Sansa closed her eyes. “I would like one please, Shae. Thank you very much.”

When the innkeeper filled the bath with hot water, Sansa got right in. It was a big difference from her experience in the water earlier. Even if it was a wooden tub, it was nice to sit in the warmth. Shae grabbed the soap, but Sansa stopped her.

“Don’t worry about me Shae. Go get something to eat.”

“Not if you try to drown yourself again!”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “I won’t. Go! I heard your stomach rumbling before!”

Shae sighed and stood up. On her way out the door she said, “I will be back soon. Don’t do anything stupid!”

Sansa laughed and took the soap in her hand. She closed her eyes and started to wash herself. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t keep her mind off of what she saw this morning. It didn’t help that soon she was rubbing her skin so hard that the entire surface of the water was covered in suds and bubbles. That just made her think of how the remnance of his washing had touched her legs as it flowed down stream.

“Ugh.” She dropped the soap and sunk down under the water. How could she ever face him again? He had to have heard Shae yell her name. The fact that he had brought back her shoes only solidified that fact in her mind. Sansa wanted to cry out of frustration. She just didn’t know what to do. Maybe Shae could bring her a meal up to the room. Maybe she could ask to have Ser Darol escort her instead.

 _He’s your sworn shield,_ she told herself. _You can’t avoid him forever._

Well that didn’t mean she couldn’t try.

At that, she heard knocking on the door. She didn’t know why Shae would be knocking. She ignored her. She was getting so good at holding her breath underwater, she didn’t want to stop until she couldn’t take anymore. The knocking got louder. If it was anyone else, she figured they would just go away. Then she heard the door squeak open and figured it must have been Shae. She peaked her head out from under the water, her new record spoiled.

“I wasn’t drowning myself, _g_ _ods_ Shae!” She rubbed her eyes free of soap and water and opened them. She only saw the door as it closed. She looked around. No one was in the room. Sansa figured Shae was probably just making sure she was alright. She sighed and poured the last of the clean water over her head before standing up and stepping out. She dried herself off, but Shae still did not return. She found a simple dress and tied it as best she could. She waited a moment for Shae to come back, not wanting to go downstairs looking like a complete mess. But her stomach gurgled. She was hungry. She brushed through her hair and braided it at the end. It was still wet, but she couldn’t wait anymore. She opened the door.

“Sandor.”

 _Bugger._ He stood at the door. His body took up the entire space of the frame. She couldn’t get by him. And he wasn’t moving. She put a smile on her face before she spoke.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in days.”

“Haven’t you?”

Sansa felt her eyes widen, just for a brief second. _Oh gods. He knows. And now he knows I know that he knows!_ He was staring at her, not releasing her from his gaze. He had a smirk on his face that she had never seen on him before. _Is he making fun of me?_ She regained her composure before she spoke again, pretending he said nothing.

“I would like to go down now, get some food.”

He didn’t say anything. His face didn’t change. But he turned half of his body to let her pass. He only left half of the doorway open for her so she had to squeeze through. She turned her left side forward to do so, and immediately regretted that decision. Once she was in the doorway, she realized that she was going to be facing him with only mere inches in between their bodies. But there was no going back. She had to squeeze by slowly. He wasn’t moving at all. She kept her eyes ahead and could feel him staring down at her. She could smell ale on his breath. Her eyes were at his chest, massive as it was. Her eyes were wide and her face was hot as she remembered him in the water. Without his clothes. It was just a second. But it felt like an hour as she passed him. Once she was through the doorway, she turned and almost ran down the stairs. She could have sworn she heard him laugh under his breath as she descended the stairs.

Sansa saw Shae right away and walked up to her. She was finishing up her meal.

“Shae, why didn’t you help me when you came back?”

“I didn’t come back yet Sansa. I was just about to when you came down.”

 _If it wasn’t Shae who knocked or opened the door, then who_?The answer came to her and it felt like a smack in the face. Sandor. Had he seen her? In the tub? She thought back to that moment. She remembered that the water was covered in soap bubbles and hoped that was enough. She turned around and Sandor. He was talking to one of the other men, laughing with him, holding a horn of ale in his hand. Sansa sat down with Shae, wanting to hide away forever. Suddenly she wasn’t very hungry anymore. She picked on a heel of bread and sipped from her cup of water. Whenever she looked up, she noticed Shae looking at her. She ignored it, until Shae had a look on her face like Sandor did before.

“What?” She snapped at her.

Shae just smiled. “Nothing.” She was never going to let this go, Sansa knew that for sure now.

“Princess.” She looked up. Ser Darol stood at her side. “May I sit?”

She scooted over on the bench. “Of course.”

He sat down and sighed. “We should make it to the crossing the day after tomorrow.”

“Really?” Sansa’s eyes lit up. Finally, something to look forward to. Other people to see. It would make it easier to avoid Sandor.

“Really.” Darol smiled widely. He seemed just as excited as her. She noticed that he must have bathed. He smelled like soap. Clean. With the way they looked at each other, Sansa felt a little fluttering in her stomach. Not like before in the stream. Small, but it made her think. She felt like she could trust Darol. She knew that Robb certainly did, otherwise he wouldn’t have sent him with her. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Sansa wondered if Hornwoods were a high enough house to make a match with Starks. She realized they probably weren’t, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t talk to him, couldn’t spend her time with him. Sansa wondered if Sandor would stay away if she decided to ride by Ser Darol on tomorrow’s ride.

“Have I told you about the time Grey Wind mistook my leg for a nice juicy mutton chop?”

Sansa nearly spit out the water she sipped on, but she caught herself. “No, I’m afraid you haven’t.”

Darol went on to tell his story. He had Sansa and Shae in fits of laughter for the rest of the night. It felt good. It had been a long time since Sansa felt that she could laugh out loud like that. At one point, she caught Sandor’s eye from across the room. His mouth was a straight line, his eyes hard. She quickly looked away and continued to listen to Darol and his hilarious stories.

That night, Sansa fell asleep, content, to the sound of howling wolves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man this one took me a while. I just keep thinking of ideas for chapters later on and I would so much rather work on those but I gotta keep this thing updated in order to get there!!! 
> 
> Anyhoo, I'm pretty sure my favorite San/San interaction happened in this chapter. Wish I could post another tonight, but I have to go out and be social. ugh. New one tomorrow!!!


	25. Chapter 25

Sandor

Sandor decided that the best part of his assignment as Sansa Stark’s sworn shield was making her blush. It hadn’t originally been his intention, but she just made it _so easy_. The way the redness came upon her so fast, starting at her neck and creeping up all the way to her cheeks, her ears too, whenever her hair was pulled back. He always knew how beautiful she was, but seeing her like that made him unable to stop staring. He hoped that she wouldn’t notice when he did. But after that morning in the stream, he didn’t really care.

Sandor never liked bathing at inns. The tubs were always too small and it was just too awkward. He thought the morning was warm enough to try in the stream. He found an area that was deep enough and started to wash. He thought he heard someone else in the water a little further away, but ignored it. It was probably just another man with the same idea as him. But then he heard a woman shout when he was rinsing his face. With the accent, he knew it was Shae.

“Princess?”

He heard a splash in the water and looked up. He didn’t see anything.

“Sansa! What are you _doing_ in there?”

He heard more splashing and then what sounded like loud footsteps, running through the grass.

_What the fuck_ ?

Sandor rinsed off once more and shook off before dressing again. He walked toward where he heard the sounds, past a big tree with low hanging branches.

 _Was she watching me?_ _Sansa?_ He walked over to where the sound came from and saw a pair of shoes in the grass. He picked them up. They were definitely hers. At first, Sandor was confused. But then she thought of her drunk comments from the ball, talking about his eyes, telling him he was a beautiful dancer. He just started laughing. Sandor couldn’t remember laughing so hard in a very long time. His stomach actually hurt after a minute. Sansa _fucking_ Stark was watching him wash naked in the river. He couldn’t imagine why. Maybe she was just curious, never seeing another man naked, unless she had seen the imp. But there is a clear difference there. He didn’t know why, but he knew that he wasn’t going to let this go. He took her shoes and walked them over to the wheelhouse. He thought about knocking and giving them to her, but he decided that wasn’t the best idea. He left them on the step instead.

On the day’s journey, he tried to convince himself to forget about it. To let it go. She had been avoiding him since the night of the ball, he knew. He wondered if she remembered what she had said. After leaving the shoes for her, she had not come out of the wheelhouse. He probably made it worse. It really was not appropriate for him to tease her like that. But after a few horns of ale at the inn, he changed his mind.

He saw Shae come down and walked right up to her.

“Where is she?”

“Sansa?” The corner of her mouth lifted up.

“No, the fucking Queen.”

Shae was not easily deterred by such language. She lifted her chin up to him, the smile still playing on her face. “She’s in the room.”

 _She’d probably be in there all night_ , he figured. _Well she needs to eat._ And he didn’t want her hiding from him forever. He downed the rest of his ale and slammed it on the table. He had a few horns of ale by this point, and since he hadn’t eaten much during the day, it hit him harder than it usually would have. He wasn’t drunk. But he was definitely warm. He couldn’t get the thought out of his head. She’d been watching me. In the fucking river, naked as my nameday. He laughed to himself as he got to her door. He knocked and waited, no answer. He knocked again, harder. No answer. _Maybe she is asleep._ If he hadn’t had all the ale, perhaps he wouldn’t have opened the door, but he just wanted to make sure she was alright. _Besides_ , he thought unwillingly, _I’ve seen her much worse than asleep on a bed_. He first looked at the bed. Empty.

“I wasn’t drowning myself, _gods_ Shae!”

He turned, his head around the door. She was sitting in the bath, her head and arms were all he could see as she rubbed her eyes. He quickly closed the door, hoping she wouldn’t have noticed.

Sandor stood outside the door, his eyes were wide. He hadn’t seen anything but her head. Her hair was wet. She must have been under the water when he was knocking. He felt himself smile. _Now we’re even._

Sandor waited outside her door. He wanted to be there when she came out. After about twenty minutes he heard her fiddling with the door. He stepped up, close to the doorway.

“Sandor.” She was clearly shocked. But she put on her proper little smile as quick as she could. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in days.”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Haven’t you?”

He had to give her credit. He thought she would have been completely put back by the telling comment. But her eyes just widened briefly. He couldn’t help the smirk that came across his face as he watched the red creep up her neck. She ignored what he said. “I would like to go down now, get some food.” Sandor just stepped back, allowing her the small space she needed to get through the doorway. He’d expected her to put her back to him, but she faced him as she passed. From the close proximity he was looking almost directly down at her. Her eyes were level with his chest, they were wide and looked straight ahead. He wondered what she was thinking about. He could see her eyelashes from his point of view, above her. Her hair was still wet. Braided. She smelled clean. From here, he could see the tops of her ears, pink as ever. He’d been close to her before. Many times. Riding with her on Stranger back to King’s Landing. Carrying her close to his chest after the ball. But this was different. For one thing, she was conscious. And she was looking at him. Once she was through the doorway, she turned and practically ran down the hall and the steps. He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped from his lips. _That’s enough for today,_ he thought. He would leave her alone for the time being.

The next day, he didn’t speak with her at all. She was up and out before he was. By the time he had Stranger ready, she was already on her horse, and she wasn’t alone. She rode next to Ser Darol Hornwood. He saw them talking before, but he thought nothing of it. That was until last night. Watching her laugh with him, watching her look at him like that, something changed in him. He thought Darol was a fine man, but now- _A pretty green boy. Just what she always wanted._ It was different from the way he felt seeing her with Tyrion. With the imp, it was laughable. And she looked miserable. And while he truly did want Sansa to be happy, it was difficult to watch.

Sandor had thought about her getting married again someday. He would be there for all of it as her sworn shield. But he never pictured the man. He didn’t think that Robb would let a Hornwood marry the princess, but now that he had a face to think of- marrying her in the godswood, kissing her at the wedding feast, bedding her- Sandor wanted to tear him to bits. Wanted to throw her over his shoulder and lock her in that wheelhouse. But that wasn’t what he was there for. He was there to protect her. And although he hated admitting it, he believed that she was safe with Ser Darol for the moment being. They were only a days ride from the twins and Sandor thought it couldn’t come soon enough. It had been easy for Sansa to avoid him with all of these men here to protect her. But once they were in the castle, he would be at her side again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my man is getting jeaaallllouss!!
> 
> Writing more now!


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is short. I'm sorry. I had to be social with family time. My fiancé actually took my computer away from me as I typed. Like he actually took it away and hid it. We are leaving shortly for GOT night at my friend's so this is all I could write right now D: This was supposed to be a small part of a bigger section. But I figured I would rather give you something rather than nothing! Don't hate me! I will have more tomorrow! Now let us go watch and cringe over the travesty that is the television version of our favorite books!

Sansa

Sansa had a pleasant ride with Ser Darol. It was a beautiful day. Darol had mentioned that they were lucky thus far. There had been no rain on their journey. But he spoke too soon.

The next day, Sansa awoke to the sound of torrential rain pounding on the roof of the wheelhouse.

Luckily, they were only a few hours away from the crossing. She stayed in the wheelhouse with Shae while the rest of the party suffered outside in the rain.

Not soon enough, they arrived at the twins. She stepped outside, wearing a heavy wool cloak. Ser Darol was there for her, and she smiled even with the rain pouring on her. As she walked away, the men started to take down the trunks from the top of the wheelhouse. She noticed that the first one they grabbed was hers, the one filled with her dresses, shifts and small clothes. She knew it was going to happen before they did. One of the men had lost his footing in the rain. He fell back, dropping his end of the heavy trunk, the man on the other side lost his grip completely.

The trunk upturned, the hinge popped open and all of her belongings fell out and into the mud as the trunk came crashing down.

The very first thing Sansa saw was Sandor’s bloody white Kingsguard cloak. She ran. Her shoes stuck in the mud but she didn’t care. She ran without them. Before the men who dropped it could even react she was there, pushing the trunk over with all her might.

“Princess!” They shouted together. “I’m so sorry, Princess Sansa!” The man who fell said. She could barely hear them over the pouring rain and wind so she ignored them. The first thing she grabbed was the cloak. She bundled it up in a ball as best she could. It was already soaked through with the rain. It was very heavy as she pushed it into the bottom of the trunk. She looked around. She didn’t see Sandor anywhere. But that didn’t mean he didn’t see her. Then she noticed that all of her small clothes were now exposed and getting soaked through and muddy. One of the men went to grab her things, to help her, but she smacked his hand away and stuffed everything in the trunk herself. All of her dresses hit the ground since they were on top of the pile of clothes in the trunk. She closed the lid shut, but the lock was broken.

“We’ll see this to your rooms Princess. We’ll have them cleaned.”

She said nothing, she just stood and walked away. The dress she wore was covered in mud from kneeling in the ground. Ser Darol held her shoes. He looked at her with wide eyes, his mouth closed. He looked confused. She didn’t say anything. She grabbed her shoes from him and walked on her own toward the gate. Before she could get there, Sandor came up from behind her. He grabbed her hand and put it on his arm. Had he seen? Sansa’s heart beat faster and she started to breathe heavy as they strode to the gate. Once they were let through the gate, they stood underneath an arch to take a break from the rain. Sansa didn’t look at him. She stood on one foot and started to wipe her muddy foot on her cloak. She started to lose her balance, but Sandor caught her arm and held her steady. She put on her shoe, did the same for the other foot and shook away his hand. She would walk inside alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously. What if he saw? Sansa's just digging and digging herself deeper huh?


	27. Chapter 27

Sansa

Sansa was brought into the great hall to meet Walder Frey and his get. She’d heard about how old he was, how rude, decrepit. But she was still taken aback when she met him herself. He was just so old. She thought that he must have been the oldest person she had ever seen. He was completely bald, toothless and his skin sagged from every inch of him. His chin sunk into his neck. She was surprised he was still alive, let alone talking. She looked at his young wife at his side. She looked miserable, but Sansa couldn’t get past her age. She’s my age. She cringed, looking at his wife’s swollen pregnant belly. _How could she bear lying with him?_ Sansa’s stomach turned at the thought. In her mind, she thanked the gods that Robb was her king. He would never force her to marry anyone like him.

“Princess Sansa.”

“Lord Walder.” She curtsied. There were so many people in the hall, and they were all looking at her.

“Come closer. My old eyes can’t see you from this far.”

Sansa stepped forward, and felt Sandor move behind her, not letting any more distance in between them than there already was. Sansa stopped a few feet away from Walder Frey. Not surprisingly, he was even more repulsive up close. He motioned her forward even more. She took two steps forward, he reached for her hand. He gave it to him. He took her hand in his and brought it to his mouth and kissed it. Sansa felt chills go up her spine. She pulled her hand back and it was wet, too much like when Ramsay Bolton had done the same. She took a step back. Sandor stood next to her now, just a step behind.

“Thank you so much for inviting me and my party into your home.” She finally said. She watched his cloudy eyes look at her up and down while she spoke. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your generosity and kindness.”

“Didn’t really have a choice did I? When the king asks for a favor, its not really a question is it?”

She had no answer to that. He continued. “Ah, well, I suppose you won’t be putting us out too much. Will be nice to watch _you_ walk around here for a week.” He made himself laugh, but started to cough and wheeze as he did. Sansa cringed inwardly at the comment. She just wanted to get out of his sight. From the corner of her eye, Sansa could see Sandor stand up straighter. He transferred the weight to his other foot. He seemed almost as uncomfortable as Sansa.

Once Lord Walder stopped coughing, he sighed. “I suppose you’ll be wanting to meet _the queen_ then.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Roslin!” He barked.

Sansa heard movement to the right and she turned to follow it. Three women stepped forward. Two women stood on either side of the smallest woman, who seemed to have trouble walking, standing, on her own. Sansa noticed her stomach before she saw the rest of her. Sansa had only seen a handful of pregnant women in her life, and they certainly never looked like this. When Margaery was pregnant, she became plump all over her body. Her face became more round, her hands swollen. _This_ woman was so small, but her belly completely overwhelmed her. Her dress was hanging off of her, her arms swimming in the sleeves. But the fabric over her belly was so tight, Sansa could see her the outline of her navel. Her small, pretty face was gaunt, sharp and grey. Her brown hair was long and limp. Only then did Sansa notice the bronze circlet on the top of her head. A feminine, daintier version of Robb’s own.

Sansa realized that she had been staring for a moment too long. She looked down, and curtsied. “Your Grace.”

Queen Roslin smiled weakly. “Princess Sansa.”

Lord Walder spoke, filled the silence. “See what your brother did to her?” He said. “She’ll have those wolf pups any day now, that’s for sure.”

“The maester says it will be twins.” Roslin spoke up.

“Twins!” Sansa was shocked. “Oh that’s wonderful!”

Roslin blushed. She seemed to be a very shy girl, but sweet. Not like her father. But the more Sansa looked at her, the more worried she became. _How are two babies going to come out of her? She is so small_!

Sansa found herself thinking about her brother’s wife as she dressed for the night’s feast. Sansa wanted to wear a more fine dress than the one Shae was preparing for her. Unfortunately it had been soiled in the trunk incident earlier in the day. Sansa couldn’t imagine how uncomfortable she must be. She was just stretched so thin. Well if she is in any pain now, it won’t even compare to what she will go through when those babies are ready to come out. Roslin’s hips were like a little boys, _like Arya’s_. Sansa immediately feared for her, feared for Roslin’s life. She’d heard stories of women not surviving childbirth. If Tyrion had killed his mother when he came out of her, being so small, what were these babies going to do to this slight of a woman? While Shae was laying out her dress, before she had put on her shift, Sansa took a moment and looked at herself in the mirror. Sansa couldn’t help but see the differences in her and Roslin’s bodies. Where Roslin was short in stature, Sansa stood tall. Taller than most women she had met. Where Roslin was skinny and straight, Sansa was thin but with the fullness of a woman. Sansa looked at her hips. They weren’t too wide, but she did have a shape to her, unlike Roslin. She imagined that if she ever did have children, that the birthing process would be difficult, extremely painful, but probably easier than Roslin would have it.

Sansa hadn’t thought about having children in quite some time. For so long, all she wanted was to be free. Before that, she used to dream of bearing a dozen babies with yellow hair for Joffrey. She shuddered at the thought. Maybe that is why she hasn’t thought of it since. Sansa looked into the mirror and tried to picture herself with a belly like Roslin’s. She could see it in her mind, her skin stretched thin over a perfect round bump. She put her hands on her stomach and felt nothing there. Unwillingly, she started to think about the process of getting pregnant. They say that can be painful too. Sansa wondered whether or not she would ever enjoy it. Would it always be painful? Would she find her husband attractive? Would she want to share her bed with him? Would he be gentle? Sansa found herself thinking of different men she knew, wondering whether or not they would be gentle. She figured that Robb must have been gentle with Roslin, she just seemed so breakable. She thought of Joffrey, and she knew that there was no chance he could ever have been anything but harsh and cruel. Suddenly she was remembering Darol, how he had helped her onto and off of her horse, how he would hold her arm as they walked. She smiled, slightly embarrassing herself by thinking of him in that way. Then, unwillingly, she remembered certain times with Sandor. She had always been surprised at how gentle he was when he didn't need to be. How he had lifted her from her bed, when she refused to come out of her room after Joffrey had killed her father. How he had wiped the blood from her mouth after Meryn Trant had hit her. How he had- she stopped herself. She couldn’t think of that. Not now. Thinking about Darol in that way was one thing. But Sandor. She found herself remembering seeing him in the river. She could see the blush rise in her cheeks as she thought of it.

Shae came with her dress not a minute too soon. She helped her into her dress. It was a little bit low cut, she had so few options. If she had her choice of dresses she would be wearing that brown lump that Shae laughed at. She was so uncomfortable around Lord Walder. She didn’t want to make it easier for him to stare at her. But as this was all she had, Sansa decided to wear her hair down as to cover the top of her chest, her neck. Shae braided back the top half to make it more presentable. When Sansa was all ready, Sandor was there to escort her down to the hall.

Sansa felt guilty that she had been the reason for Roslin to come out again for this. She figured she must be in bed all day, and here she was forced to try to sit on a hard backed chair and entertain Sansa. Sansa was so happy that she wasn’t forced to sit next to Lord Walder. He sat with his wife. Roslin sat on his other side, and Sansa sat next to her. Sansa and Roslin didn’t speak very much. Sansa tried. She complimented the food, tried to exchange other pleasantries, but Roslin was just so quiet. She must be in a lot of pain. Sansa instead found herself picking at her food, drinking water instead of wine. Ever since the ball, she was weary of the drink. She didn’t want to make a fool of herself again.

The next two days were just more of the same. Trying to force conversation with Roslin, trying, unsuccessfully, to avoid Sandor, trying to hide from Lord Walder. Sansa was quite bored, and she just wanted to get going on the road again, but she knew that would be rude. The rain continued the whole time so there was no escaping to the outdoors. In the afternoon on the third day, Sansa was in her room writing a letter to Robb. She wanted to update him on her journey. She found herself exaggerating on her relationship with Roslin. She wanted him to believe that they were getting along well. Shae was organizing a few of her things when there was a knock on the door.

“It’s Sandor.” Shae said at the door.

Sansa’s eyes widened as she looked at the parchment in front of her. “Come in.” She wouldn’t look up, she wouldn’t get up either. She just kept on writing. _What could he want?_

He came in and tried to speak, but there was another knock on the door.

“I’ve got your things Princess Sansa!” A woman shouted on the other side of the door.

“Alright, come in.” Sansa figured she would just leave them on the bed so Shae could put them away. She continued writing and heard Sandor try to speak, but the washer woman spoke again.

“I’ve got everything here for you Princess. All nice and clean.”

“Wonderful thank you. You can just leave everything on the bed, Shae will-“

“Some of those stains were hard to get out.” The woman interrupted. “The mud was easy enough. But those stains on that white cloak of yours were tough.” Sansa’s hand stopped moving. “Couldn’t get them out all the way, must be old stains. Almost seemed like blood-“

“Thank you!” Sansa practically shouted. “That’s just fine, Shae would you see her out please.” Sansa looked back down at her parchment. She heard Shae shuffle the washer woman out of the door. But Sandor still stood there, waiting to speak. Well if he hadn’t seen her with the cloak before, _he definitely knows about it now!_ Sansa’s face was on fire and she furiously scribbled on the page. She would not address this. Even if he heard, even if he said something, she would ignore it, deny it, come up with an excuse. She just wanted him to leave

“You were saying Sandor?”

She heard him take a deep breath, a pause, before speaking. “Queen Roslin, she requested to dine with you this evening. Alone.”

 _Thank the gods he ignored it_. She prayed he would forget about it. Never e _ver_ ask.

“That would be lovely, thank you Sandor. Could you get a message to her? I accept.” She looked up at him, trying to seem indifferent.

He looked down at her. His forehead was crinkled together. His eyes looked wary. _He can see right through me._ “Of course.” He said. He tilted his head toward her and left.

As soon as the door was closed, Sansa slammed her head on the table and threw her arms over her eyes. _If this keeps happening, I will never make it to Winterfell in one piece._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Girl needs to crawl in a hole and just live there forever. More soooon!!


	28. Chapter 28

Sandor

When Sandor caught up with Sansa, he didn’t know what happened to make her so upset. He thought it was just left over embarrassment from his teasing her, but there was clearly something else. Once they were out of the rain he saw that she was distraught. Her feet were bare and muddy. He helped her balance as she wiped them as clean as she could and put on her shoes. He expected her to say thank you. She was always so courteous, no matter her mood. But she just pushed him away from her and stomped toward the inside.

Watching her in the hall, Sandor had to suppress the urge to rip out the old man’s throat with the way he was looking at her. When Lord Walder commented on watching Sansa for the week that they would be here, he fidgeted around. He couldn’t stand still. _Is this what it is going to be like forever? Fending off perverts?_ He didn’t know if he would always be able to restrain himself.

Even though they had been cooped up inside for three days, he hadn’t been able to really see her or speak to her. He didn’t know what he wanted to say to her. But he just felt horrible for teasing her now. He wanted to find a way to make it up to her, make it all go back to the way it was before. He just didn’t know how. Maybe her could do something nice for her, make her forget what had happened, even if he never would.

He was glad when he got the message from the queen. It was an excuse to speak with her, at any rate. Shae let him in the room after he had knocked. Sansa was at the table, writing a letter, it seemed. She didn’t even look up when he came in. He started to speak, but was interrupted by another knock at the door. A washer woman with her clothes. He had heard that her trunk was opened and dropped into the mud. He figured that was why she was upset the day they arrived. A few of the men were still talking about how she had ran barefoot in the pouring rain to throw the clothes back in herself. They had never seen her act strange like that before, but he had. He figured there were small clothes and such in there, that she didn’t want all these men to see. But listening to the washer woman, he learned otherwise.

Sansa was red before she even said it.

“Those stains on that white cloak of yours were tough.” Sansa stopped moving. He could see her chest moving up and down, fast. She was breathing heavy. “Couldn’t get them out all the way, must be old stains. Almost seemed like blood-“

“Thank you!” Sansa interrupted her. “That’s just fine, Shae would you see her out please.”

 _White cloak. Old stains. Blood._ Sandor’s mind was brought back to a hazy night. So long ago. The air was hot and green. He tried to steal her. He held a knife to her throat. She begged him to stay. He ripped off his white woolen Kingsguard cloak. Soiled by smoke and blood of those he’d killed in the battle. He hadn’t thought about the cloth again.

He realized she had spoken, waiting for him to say what he came to say.

It took him a moment to remember why he was there. When he did, he took a breath. “Queen Roslin, she requested to dine with you this evening. Alone.”

She finally looked up at him. Her eyes were wide as she told him she would accept. Sandor squinted at her. _What just happened?_ “Of course.” He said. He bent his head toward her and left.

When the door closed behind him, he just stood there for a moment. She had his white cloak. She’d kept it. A filthy, bloody, stained cloak. _Why would she keep it?_ Another thought came to him. _That’s why she ran to her trunk when it fell. She didn’t want anyone to see. She didn’t want_ me _to see_. If she just kept it and hid it, so no one would know he came to her that night, wouldn’t she have forgotten about it? But she knew it was there. She remembered. And it had been her first thought when her clothes were dumped out into the mud. _What did she do with it? Why would she keep it?_ Sandor couldn’t stop asking himself questions. He had no answer to them. And he didn’t know if he ever would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gaaah its small I know. More tomorrow. I'm gonna try to take some time on it. I just want it to be really good for y'all. Let me know what you think!!


	29. Chapter 29

Sansa

Sansa tried to put what had happened out of her mind. Based on the way he looked at her, she wouldn’t be able to do so forever. How would she ever explain this one?

“What white cloak?”

Sansa lifted her head. Shae was digging through the basket of clean clothes. Sansa shot up and ran over to her. But Shae turned her back to her as she hunched over the basket, searching for the cloak. Sansa pushed against her, trying to reach around, to push her hands away. But Shae was too strong. She barely budged as Sansa fought against her. Finally, Shae’s hands grasped on something and she pushed Sansa back.

“Shae. Don’t.” Sansa swung at her, trying to pull the fabric from her hands.

Shae shook it out, and it hung there from her hands.

The blood stains were faded, but they were still there, a muddy rusted color. The smoke stains were gone. Sansa felt a pang in her chest when she realized it probably didn’t smell like smoke anymore either. But that was not the biggest problem right now.

“Sansa.” Shae started, slowly, apprehensive. “Why do you have this?”

Sansa just put her face in her hands and slumped to the floor.

“Only seven people had a cloak like this. And for some reason I wouldn’t think you would hold on to Meryn Trant’s kingsguard cloak.”

Sansa put her hands in her lap. She looked up at Shae, feeling so pathetic. There was nothing else she could do. No way she could hide. “Shae.” She whispered.

Shae walked over to her, still holding the cloak, and sunk down onto her knees. She held the cloak high, up to Sansa’s face. “What is this doing here Sansa?”

Sansa felt totally defeated. What if she told Shae? Everything? _Well not everything_ , she thought. _Not that_. What would she think if she knew how Sansa has felt? Maybe it would be nice, to talk to someone about things. Maybe it would feel better than holding everything inside for the last few years.

“Shae. I don’t even know where to begin.”

Shae dropped the cloak onto their laps and grabbed Sansa’s hands. She looked Sansa in the eyes. “Try.”

And so she did. She started with the night of the battle, when he came to take her away.

“But, I don’t understand.” Shae was confused. “Why would he decide to come to your room? Why would he want to take you?”

Sansa shook her head. She had to go further back. She told her of the first time they spoke. The first time he walked her back to the castle. She left out the part about him telling her about his scars. She told her how he had saved her from the riot in the streets. How he wiped the blood from her mouth. How he covered her when she was stripped and beaten in court.

“When he came to take me away, I was so scared. Not of him, even when he threatened me. I was afraid to leave. Afraid of what would happen to me outside of the city walls. I couldn’t leave. But even more than that, I was afraid of being in the city alone, without a friend.” She took a breath. “So I asked him to stay. I told him not to leave. I didn’t think he would actually listen. He ripped off his cloak and threw it to the ground. I- I crawled under it. It was the only way I was able to get to sleep that night.” She shook her head remembering. She decided to leave out the fact that she still took it out to help her sleep sometimes. “The next day, he was by Joffrey’s side, with a new clean white cloak. We never talked about it. And I don’t know why, but I haven’t gotten rid of the cloak yet.”

Shae looked at her. She looked concerned. “Well, that all makes sense now. Why he risked so much to save you again. Why he wanted to be your sworn shield.”

Sansa nodded. Never wanting to think about it herself. “He’d been the only one to keep be safe until Robb got there.” She looked down. “Well, I suppose Tyrion helped too sometimes.” She smiled, sadly. “Do you know, there’s actually times that I miss him?” She shook her head. “I must sound _mad_. How could anyone miss a Lannister?”

She looked up at Shae. She had tears in her eyes, threatening to spill over her lids. Sansa grabbed her shoulders. “Shae!”

Shae let out a loud cry and threw herself onto Sansa’s lap. _What just happened!?_ Sansa held Shae with one arm, combed her hair with her fingers, trying to calm her.

“I miss him.” Shae started, between sobs.

“Who Shae?”

“I loved him Sansa!” She cried harder.

“Shae! Who?”

“Tyrion!”

Sansa’s hand stopped moving in her hair.

“What?”

Shae still cried, but she gathered herself, sat up and put her hands on Sansa’s shoulders.

“I’m so sorry Sansa. I’m so sorry.”

Sansa didn’t know what to do. What to say. “What are you talking about? You barely even knew him.”

Shae hiccupped. “I did. And he knew me. And he loved me.” She threw herself onto Sansa’s skirts again. Sansa left her hands at her sides. She knew at that moment that she had never been so confused in her life. Thankfully, Shae began to speak through her sobs.

“We met before he came to King’s Landing. At the battlefield. I was his whore.”

Sansa felt her eyes open wide. “Shae.”

She went on to tell Sansa all about her and Tyrion’s time together. How they grew to care for each other. How he had to put her into Sansa’s service to hide her from Cersei. How they had fallen in love. How angry she had been when Sansa married him. But how they were still able to be together, every single night. They were happy. As happy as they could have been, given the circumstances. And then Robb came.

Sansa couldn’t grasp her mind around the fact that Shae used to be a _whore_. And on top of that, hearing that she had an affair with her husband? That she _loved_ him? And he was dead. No wonder she was crying in the middle of the night. She was dealing with this all on her own. She thought she was the only one that had not been completely happy when Tyrion had died. But here was Shae, who loved him, unable to grieve for him, unable to talk to anyone about it.

“So that’s where he went every night.”

Shae sat up and nodded sadly. “I'm so sorry Sansa. I just felt so guilty

Sansa couldn’t stand how ridiculous it sounded, Shae apologizing like that.

“What are you apologizing for Shae? You loved him. And I stood in the way of you two being together completely.

“It wasn’t your fault Sansa. Neither of you wanted to be married. All of us wanted it to be different. Even if you weren't married, he would have been forced to marry some one else. We would never be allowed to be together. Its just the way it was.”

“But if I had known, maybe I could have helped.”

Shae shook her head. “We couldn’t risk it.”

Sansa didn’t know what else to say. “I’m so sorry Shae.” She reached for her and hugged her. Sansa realized that moment that Shae really was her only true friend.

“What a mess we are.” Shae said into Sansa’s shoulder. That made Sansa laugh and soon Shae was laughing too. They pulled away and Shae rubbed at her eyes. “It almost feels better, talking about it.” She gave Sansa a small smile. “Well, even if I am miserable and grieving forever, I can still help you be happy.”

Sansa squinted her eyes at Shae. “What do you mean?”

“I get it now. It makes sense.”

“What does?”

Shae smiled crookedly. “The way you were looking at him. In the stream.”

 _Oh gods,_ she was hoping Shae would have forgotten about it. “Shae, that has nothing to do with anything.”

Shae laughed, and sniffled. “Of course it does. You’ve seen him in a way that no one else has.”

“That- that doesn’t mean anything.”

“Yes it does. He cares for you. He always has. I didn’t know about any of that Sansa. It makes so much sense! Otherwise he wouldn’t be here, with you. _Swearing his life to yours_.” The way she said it, it made Sansa blush. She could feel it. Shae continued. “And at the very least, you care for him.”

 _Of course I do_ , she thought. It was obvious to her. But Sansa had never thought of it before in that way. She knew that she cared whether he lived or died. She knew that the thought of him, his cloak, had always helped put her mind at ease. But she never put it into those words. That she _cared_ for him.

There was a knock at the door.

“Who is it?” They both yelled at the door.

It was Sandor. “The queen, she’s- she is in labor.”

“Oh!” Sansa grabbed the cloak and threw it under the bed, out of sight. She hoped Sandor would forget about the cloak for the moment. Give her some time to think it through. Sansa stood, and helped Shae to her feet. She looked at Shae and wiped a tear that still laid under her eye. Shae smiled at her before turning to open the door for Sandor.

“I suppose that means that I will not be dining with her tonight.” Sansa smiled at him. She felt different after that talk with Shae, after learning the things she had. So many things about the past few years of her life were so different than she had thought. Besides, there were more important things happening. Her brother’s children were about to be born.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's the thing. This would have been out earlier, and longer, but my professor made us do this 'Active Listening' exercise in our teams today. We each had to talk for five minutes straight and try not to interrupt each other. AND WE HAD TO PUT OUR COMPUTERS AWAY. This was a half hour of my life that I couldn't pretend to be listening and actually be working on this story. And then when it was my turn to talk, it was so hard not to talk about the story and just be like SO HERE'S THE DEAL WITH SANDOR. Ugh. Whatever at least I learned that there are two more ASOIAF fans in my class because of this. I might have scared them. Anyway, rant over. I just thought I would share why this is so short and late!
> 
> Ok now tell me what ya think!!! If you can't tell, I'm building up to a pretty big scene. Good or bad who knows! But SOMETHING is definitely going to happen. Not next. But in the next few :D THANK YOU FOR READING I LOVE YOU ALL!!!!
> 
> -Megan


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 8000 hits!! YOU ARE ALL UNREAL! Thank you so much for reading!!!

Sansa

Sansa figured she must have been close to the room where Roslin was giving birth. She heard her cries and moans for most of the evening. When they finally stopped, Sansa figured the babies were born. But shortly after, the noises started again. They continued on into the night. Sansa couldn’t help herself. She found Sandor’s cloak from under the bed and covered herself with it. But it was no use. It was different. And she just felt so awful. _Poor Roslin_. She couldn’t even imagine the pain. How absolutely exhausted she must have been. But there was still no end to it. In the middle of the night, Sansa opened her window facing the river. The rain still poured, the river was flooding. The sound of the rain competed enough with Roslin, and although she felt guilty because of it, she soon fell asleep.

When she woke up, Sansa could see the light shining through the cloak. She pulled it from her face. The sky was bright. And dry. She listened. There was a cry, but different than the one from last night. Not Roslin’s. A baby. Sansa shot out of bed. Her nephews! Or nieces! Or one of each! She didn’t know but she had to find out. She called for Shae, but couldn’t wait. She started to dress herself, when Shae came in. She was moving slow. She looked sullen.

“What is it? What have you heard? The babies. What’s wrong?”

“The babies are fine. They’re healthy. A boy and a girl.”

Sansa grabbed her shoulders. “Oh Shae that’s wonderful! I can’t wait to meet them! Roslin must be ecstatic!”

“That’s just it Sansa.”

“What?” _Roslin? No._

“She’s alive, but barely. They say she lost a lot of blood. The labor, it took everything out of her.”

Sansa put her hand on her chest. She sat down. “Will she be alright?”

Shae shrugged. “The maester has been with her all night. They say he can’t be sure.”

Sansa shook her head. “This can’t be happening. She has to be alright. She’s the queen. She’s Robb’s wife.” Sansa immediately felt so guilty. She hadn’t even gotten to know her. And Robb wasn’t here. What would Sansa do if she died? She shuddered at the thought.

For the rest of the day, there was still no word of Roslin’s recovery. Sansa felt horrible, she barely touched any of the food she came across during the day. In the late afternoon, Sansa couldn’t take it anymore. She had to do something, get out of the castle. She decided it was time to stop avoiding Sandor. If Roslin could live through a horrible experience bringing two healthy children in the world, then Sansa could be strong enough to face Sandor.

She found him in the hall near the rooms where their party was staying.

“Sandor.” She strode right up to him. He looked at her. “I would like to go for a ride.”

He just nodded. She turned, and headed in the direction of the stables. She heard him move behind her, but she didn’t turn back around. She held her head high and continued on.

Sansa’s boots stuck in the mud as she walked toward the stable. The rain may be out of the sky, but it was sure left in the ground. A stable boy came up to them when they got there.

“The chestnut mare and the black courser please.” She said to him.

The boys eyes widened when she asked for Stranger. Sansa thought better of it. She turned her head toward Sandor. “Maybe we should-“

“Yes.” He knew what she meant.

She looked back at the boy. “If you could ready the mare, we’ll deal with Stranger.”

“Thank you Princess. Thank you!” He said as he bowed his head toward her, and ran to ready her chestnut.

Sansa and Sandor walked into the stable together and found Stranger. He huffed once he saw them. Sansa couldn’t tell if he was glad to see them or complaining about it. Either way, she reached out to him. “Stranger.” He sniffed her hand. “We’re going to go for a ride, and you are going to be good about it. Aren’t you?” He

Sandor walked into the stall as Sansa kept him calm.

“He was always difficult, you know.” Sandor said as he readied the saddle. “But I was always able to handle him on my own without any issue.”

“What happened?” Sansa knew the problems Stranger was giving him over the whole journey.

“Don’t know. He’s been different. Ever since-“ He stopped, and put the saddle on Stranger. Sansa knew what Sandor meant. Ever since he brought her back, saved her from her abductor.

“I guess he just likes me better then.” Sansa teased. Stranger pushed against her hand, as if confirming her suspicion. Sandor just looked at her and laughed. Maybe they wouldn’t have to talk about anything that had happened, and it could still go back to normal. Sansa knew it was silly to hope for that, but for the moment she would try to believe it, just to enjoy the day.

“Princess!” Both Sansa and Sandor turned to the entrance.

“Ser Darol!” Sansa let go of Stranger and walked toward him. His smile lit up his entire face.

“Are you going for a ride?”

“We are.” She motioned toward Sandor, who was walking Stranger out of his stall.

“Would you mind one more companion then? I was just about to go for one myself.”

“Of course!” Sansa didn’t even think about it. It would be nice to spend the day with him. And that way Sansa wouldn’t have to be alone with Sandor.

* * *

 

Sandor 

Sandor had been shocked when Sansa strode right up to him in the hall. She had her riding boots on, her hair in a braid. She looked him right in the eye and told him she wanted to go for a ride. It took him a moment to move to follow after her.

He still didn’t understand the way Stranger reacted toward her. But she certainly was a big help when it came to getting him saddled. Sandor didn’t know what to think with Sansa’s behavior lately. He knew she watched him in the stream. It made him laugh before. But now that he knew she still had his white cloak, he didn’t know what to think. He was as confused as ever, but he was just glad that she was talking to him again.

“Princess!” _Fuck. Ser_ Darol. Sansa’s perfect knight. Always coming in at the _perfect_ moments.

Sandor cringed at the brightness he heard in her voice when she spoke to him. He just tried to put their conversation out of his mind, but it was impossible.

The path leading to the wood was narrow, only wide enough for two riders. There was some awkwardness as the three of them headed toward it, but in the end, Sandor held Stranger back as Sansa and Darol went ahead of him. With a bit of a sigh, Sandor realized that is where he belonged. Behind her, not next to her.

For the first few moments, they were silent. Maybe he’ll shut up for once, Sandor hoped. But he thought that too soon. Ser Darol was off, telling his hilarious stories of war. Sandor rolled his eyes. If he had such a great time during these battles, Sandor wondered how much fighting he actually saw. _I’m sure the young wolf didn’t remember the war the same way._ Nevertheless, Sansa laughed and laughed at everything he said. After a while though, Sandor noticed she got quiet. She still responded and laughed where appropriate, but she seemed to be caught up in her own thoughts. _Probably worrying about the queen_ , he thought. Soon, Darol seemed to notice the same. Sandor couldn’t help the smugness he felt when Darol finally shut his mouth. They were silent as they headed back to the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was a doof. I thought I would be subbing today. I went all the way to a high school 35 minutes away from me and they go NOPE you're in here next week. I should probably be more upset at how stupid I am, but I'm just like Hey, now I can write all day! Expect another update later! I'm hoping to get to the thing that I really wanted to get to by tonight :D
> 
> Let me know what you think! Thank yooooooou!!!!


	31. Chapter 31

Sansa

“She’s out of danger.”

Sansa didn’t know what to think when she had a knock on the door in the very early morning. The sky was still grey, but she was glad for the news. Shae was up early, and came to Sansa as soon as she heard.

“Thank the gods.” She grabbed Shae and hugged her. “Can you find out if I can see her? See the babies?”

“I’ll go see.”

Shae came back later and said that it would still be a while before Roslin would be presentable to anyone. Sansa wanted to ask if she could see her niece and nephew, but decided not to push the issue. She just hoped it would happen before she left in a few days. Sansa went through the whole day and night, waiting for word. She didn’t receive it until the next morning, when Roslin finally requested her presence.

Roslin sat, somewhat reclined, in a comfortable cushioned chair. Her face was pale, but bright. She was happy. In each of her arms, she held a baby.

Sansa, curtsied. “Your Grace.”

“Oh please.” Roslin said, in her small voice. “Don’t call me that.” She laughed. “Roslin, please.”

Sansa smiled. “Then you must call me Sansa.”

Roslin smiled back at her. It was the first real smile she saw on her face. Sansa noticed a small gap between her two front teeth. Somehow it made her all the more sweet.

“Come.” Roslin motioned toward the chair near hers. “Sit.” Sansa did. “Would you like to hold them?”

Sansa nodded vigorously. “Yes, very much.” Sansa reached out her arms as Roslin held out the little bundles. “They’ve just fed, so they should be sleepy for a while.” It was somewhat awkward, maneuvering them both into her arms, but they managed. Once she was settled, she took a good look at them. Sansa never felt anything like this looking at other people’s children. Both babies had very fine but dark brown hair on top of their heads. Their faces were pure and white. They looked so soft. So small. They were her brother’s children. And they were beautiful.

“That’s Lyanna on your left.” She paused. “Eddard, on your right.”

Sansa’s breath caught in her throat. She looked up at Roslin with tears in her eyes that she didn’t even notice were there. Roslin just smiled at her, and nodded. Just then, both babies opened their eyes, as if they already knew their names. Sansa let out a small gasp when she realized she was looking into her father’s eyes, her sister’s. She looked closer at little Eddard. He looked back at her. His eyes were soft, like a grey fog. She felt like she could look into them for days. Sansa felt as though her heart just grew ten times its size to fit the love she immediately felt for these two children.

“They’re perfect.”

Roslin laughed. “They really are, aren’t they? Although, I may be a little biased.”

Sansa looked at her. “How are you feeling?”

Roslin sighed and leaned back in her chair against the cushion. “Alive. Weak. But I’m happy. I just wish Robb were here.”

Sansa often wondered whether there was much affection between the two. They didn’t have much time to get to know each other before he had to leave for King’s Landing. Sansa realized that she never really spoke to him about his wife. She had been so- self-absorbed. But now, seeing these children, the new prince and princess, everything else in her life felt less important.

“Daenerys will be here soon.” Sansa told her. “And before you know it, Robb will be here to bring you, Lyanna and little Ned home to Winterfell.”

Sansa spend the remainder of the afternoon with Roslin and the children. She found Roslin very agreeable. She was very easy to talk to, to laugh with. It seemed that she knew Robb better than Sansa had thought. And that made her happy. At the end of the afternoon, Sansa knew it was time to leave the little family alone. She handed the babies back to their mother after giving them each a kiss on the forehead.

“I can’t tell you how excited I am go be with Robb, and you, at Winterfell. I have a feeling we are going to be very happy.”

Sansa only stopped in briefly the next day to visit the children. She couldn’t help herself. She just wanted to be around them all the time. She wished she could bring them to Winterfell now. She was glad to see that Roslin was standing with them now, that she had more color in her face. She found that she really did enjoy Roslin’s company. _It will be nice to have her at Winterfell._ For the rest of the day, they prepared for continuing their journey in the morning.

The next day, Roslin was well enough to see Sansa off. Sansa gave Lyanna and Eddard each a kiss on the cheek before handing them back to the wet nurse. “Next time I see them, they’ll look so different.” The thought made her sad, but she was so excited to see Lyanna and Eddard grow up at Winterfell. If she felt this way about her niece and nephew, Sansa couldn’t imagine the love she would feel toward her own children someday.

“I wish we had more time together Sansa.”

“We will have plenty of time, once you come to Winterfell.” _As long as Robb doesn’t try to marry me off too soon_. Roslin surprised Sansa by opening her arms and giving her a big hug.

“Until then, sister.”

Sansa was completely taken aback. She hadn’t expected Roslin to react this way toward her. She was glad, but there was something else. Sansa couldn’t rightly refer to Roslin as her sister. Even though now by law, she supposed she was. But Sansa only has one sister. Arya. And for some reason, she felt that if she called Roslin sister back, then she would be completely abandoning hope for Arya.

“Until then.” She said. And she walked away with a smile to her chestnut.

The thoughts stayed with Sansa for the rest of the day. There was a light mist as they left the Twins, but she decided she would rather be outside than stuck in the wheelhouse. She wore a heavy cloak and rode near to Sandor and Stranger. Sansa hadn’t forgotten the awkwardness of the ride she had with Sandor and Darol. She knew she had gotten quiet, but she was just so worried about Roslin. She realized that although he had been happy to see Ser Darol, she really was just looking for a quiet ride to be alone with her thoughts. Thinking back on it, it would have been the perfect opportunity to talk to Sandor. Sansa decided that she would have to, even if he didn’t bring it up. She realized that she was almost eighteen years old, and if Sandor was going to be around her like this forever, then she had to take responsibility for herself and talk to him about it like a mature adult. As luck would have it, tomorrow would be her nameday. She knew she shouldn’t expect anything, especially since no one knew. It may have been nice to have a small little celebration, but it just felt odd to tell anyone about it. Besides, who would she tell?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More soon! You know the drill!! :D


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 300 KUDOS!! I love you guys. Thank you so so so so so much for reading.

Sansa

The air was cooler now as they headed North. But luckily, the sun was shining bright and warm through the coldness of the wind. Sansa couldn’t ask for better weather on her nameday. She still didn’t say anything about it to anyone. She didn’t want to make a big deal about it. It felt very selfish to think about that.

When they broke in the early afternoon Sansa took a walk on her own into the wood. After a few minutes, she found a clearing. The grass was long and soft as if swayed in the wind. There were small delicate flowers all over the clearing. It was just beautiful. Sansa took over her cloak and laid it out on the grass. She sat on it and moved her fingers over the grass. She picked at one of the flowers and spun the long stem around in her fingers.

Sansa was eighteen. For some reason, this nameday felt different than the other ages. Maybe because she was finally free of the Lannisters. She was going home. She was going to run Winterfell and the North until Robb got there. The thought still scared her when she thought of it. But she was going to prove to everyone that she was strong enough to do it. Sansa sighed and laid back on the cloak, looking up at the clear blue sky. The clouds were moving fast in the wind

Sansa felt silly thinking of it, but she couldn’t get it out of her mind ever since seeing Roslin pregnant. Seeing the children. Seeing the way Roslin looked when she talked about Robb. _She really loves him._ Sansa was happy for them, but still a little jealous. _What if I’m made to marry someone and I never learn to love him?_ What if she never truly desired to be with him? It was trivial, she knew, to think that this would be so important in the whole scheme of things. But she wanted to feel that, for once in her life. It still bothered Sansa that she had never been properly kissed. Joffrey had kissed her. It gave her chills to think about it now, but at the time, it had made her so happy. Sansa realized that she wanted to kiss someone, to be kissed. Before she is married. At the very least, she could learn how to do it before then. She closed her eyes. She felt herself blush thinking about it, but it really was one thing she wanted as a brand new eighteen year old.

Sansa heard footsteps on the soft ground behind her. After a moment, she opened her eyes. And he was standing right above her head.

She smiled at his upside down face. “Hello Sandor.”

* * *

 

Sandor

He’d seen her walk through the woods. He didn’t want to bother her. But when everyone was getting ready to leave, she still hadn’t come out. He sighed and started to walk toward through the wood in search of her. He didn’t have to go far.

She was in the center of a meadow, a clearing in the trees. The grass was so long that he almost didn’t see her. But there she was. Laying down, her hair spreading out beneath her. _Seven hells._ He walked closer to her, but she didn’t move. As he got closer he thought she might be asleep. Her eyes were closed. He knew she was awake when he noticed a flower in her hands, twirling in her fingers.

He stepped closer until his boots were just a foot away from the top of her head. He looked down at her. _Even upside down, she is perfect_. She opened her eyes.

“Hello Sandor.” She sang.

He could see the clouds moving in her eyes. The blue of them, the same color as the sky above her.

It took him a moment to find his voice.

“We’re getting ready to leave.” He told her.

She closed her eyes again and sighed. Her chest rose and she stretched her arms above her head.

“Do you think we can stay in an inn tonight? I’d like to stay at an inn.”

“I think we’ll be passing one soon.”

“Good.” Sansa sat up. Her back was to him now, so he took a few steps to the right side of her. She was picking flowers. She was quiet.

“Are you ready?” He asked. She just nodded, looking down at the flowers she gathered in her cloak. _Somethings wrong. Maybe she is trying to talk about the damn cloak._ He found himself bending down, kneeling next to her. “Is everything alright?” He didn’t know what to expect.

She nodded again. She looked up at him, a small smile on her face. She squinted her eyes in the sun. “It’s my nameday.”

Well he certainly wasn’t expecting that. She almost seemed reluctant to tell him. “Oh. Is it now?” He found himself laughing.

She smiled wider. “What?”

He shook his head. “How old are you then?” He knew the answer of course.

“Eighteen.”

“Eighteen.” He sat down next to her. “I remember when I turned eighteen.”

“Do you?”

He nodded. “I do. Long time ago.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t _that_ long ago.” Her forehead scrunched together. “How old _are_ you Sandor?”

He thought for a moment. He thought she might have known, but then realized there really was no way of knowing unless she directly asked him. “Thirty.”

“Oh.” She looked like she had never heard a less interesting fact.

“Yes.” He grabbed one of her flowers, held it in the air and looked at it, as if inspecting it. “Would you like to celebrate then?”

“No.” She said immediately. “That’s just silly. My name day is _not_ important right now.”

“Of course it is.” He said. He didn’t know what made him do it, but he just felt like he had to. He reached forward to close the space between them with the flower in his right hand. She watched his hand with her eyes, but she didn’t move. He took the flower and tucked it into her hair, placing it behind her ear. His fingertips touched her hair. He pulled away, slowly. Sansa looked up at him, the smile gone from her face. Sandor realized he stopped smiling too.

“Princess!”

Sansa turned to face the caller. Sandor kept his eyes on her. He looked at her neck as she swallowed before speaking.

“Yes.” She was quiet.

Sandor turned. _Fucking green boy._

“We are all ready to leave.”

“Oh of course!”

Sandor stood as Sansa gathered her flowers in her cloak. He put his hand out for her. She stared at it for a second before moving. She held her flowers and cloak in her left arm and took his hand with her right. He pulled her up, onto her feet. He heard a small gasp leave her lips as he did.

“Thank you.” She said almost breathlessly.

He bent his head toward her before she turned and walked away back to the road. His clenched his fist. He could still feel the warmth of her hand on his. He watched her as she walked away, toward Ser Green Boy. Sandor decided that he would do something to celebrate, figure something out, for her nameday. He decided that he would ride ahead to find the inn to prepare what he could. He hoped there would be a singer, or at least someone with an instrument. _Sansa loves music. And they better have enough wine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EEEEEEEE!!!! I have to eat dinner but then I'm going to be typing furiously at the chapter that I've wanted to write since I started this thing. Okay those of you suffering with the slow burn don't get too excited haha. But, to me, something intense is gonna happen.
> 
> WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT THIS ONE THOUGH?!?!!
> 
> Sorry. Sorry for the caps. I can't handle myself.


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's get ready to RUMBLEEEE!!!!!

Sansa

What _was_ that?

Sansa couldn’t wrap her head around what had just happened. Here she was, thinking about finding someone to kiss. Thinking about Ser Darol. And then she opened her eyes and Sandor was standing over her. She expected him to just tell her it was time to go and leave. But she was shocked when he stayed. Talked with her. And _sat_ with her in the grass. When he put that flower in her hair, she just didn’t know what to do. What to say. The way he looked at her. She couldn’t get it out of her mind. His eyes were soft. The grey was not steel like she was used to. For a moment, they reminded her of little Eddard’s. She didn’t know what to say. What to do. She was glad when Darol interrupted them.

She was in the wheelhouse with Shae now, on their way to the inn. She felt the flower in her hair, remembering. Suddenly, it gave her an idea. Even if she wasn’t going to have a celebration with anyone, she could still do a little something to make it seem special for herself. Sansa opened her cloak and looked at the flowers she had collected. She took her time, twisting and tying the long stems of the delicate purple and white flowers, until she was left with a woven crown.

They got to the inn before nightfall. Sandor had already paid for the rooms they would need. She held the crown of flowers delicately in her hands as he walked her to her room. They got to the door and Sansa went inside. She placed the crown on the table.

Sandor stood in the doorway. He looked at the crown. “You made that?”

She nodded, looking down at it.

“You should wear it tonight.” He just smiled, and closed the door.

Shae came up soon after. She helped her bathe and dress. Shae insisted she wear a nicer dress than the one she originally decided, but she wouldn’t say why, no matter how many times she asked. Sansa picked a dress of light green that showed her shape, but was still very comfortable. Shae braided the top half of Sansa’s hair and tied it in a ribbon at the end. On their way out the door, Shae stopped her.

“Wait!”

“What is it?”

Shae ran to the table and picked up the flower crown. She went over to Sansa, and placed it on top of her head. Shae ran ahead of her as they left the room.

“Shae!” She shouted after her but Shae was already out of sight, down the stairs.

It was awfully quiet in the inn. She knew how loud the party could be when they were all in one room together. She didn’t understand how it could be so quiet. She walked down the stairs and gasped when she got to the landing.

They were all there, the whole party, and they were all looking at her. All at once, they shouted at her wishing her a happy nameday. After she got over the shock, she began to laugh. Shae came and grabbed her to walk her to the center of the room. Everyone gathered around to pat her on the shoulder. She just couldn’t stop smiling. Someone handed her a cup of wine. She noticed almost all of the tables in the whole place pushed together to make one long feast table. There were plates and bowls full of different foods, pitcher’s full of wine. Through all the commotion, Sansa could hear a woodharp, and a singer. She couldn’t believe it.

The only person she told was Sandor. She found his face in the crowd. He was standing back, behind everyone else. He wasn’t smiling as big as everyone else, but his eyes were soft again. Like they were in the meadow. She just could not believe it. _Sandor Clegane- The Hound- organized a party for me._  

* * *

 

Sandor

It couldn’t have worked out any better. Everyone was having a great time. Some of the men started to dance once they got their bellies full of ale. Usually Sandor despised men who did such things, but tonight, he found himself laughing along with them. Someone was requesting songs from the singer, but Sandor could barely hear the man over all the drunks singing the words together. Sansa, was having the best time of all. She made her rounds to all of the men and chatted with them. She and Shae whispered to each other, making each other laugh. Sandor didn’t even mind when Ser Darol was near her. Sansa was happy. And for the moment, that is all he really cared about.

She hadn’t come to him yet, but he didn’t really _want_ her to. He was just enjoying watching her.

Her flower crown started to wilt in the heat of the room, but it still made her look incredibly beautiful.

She went over to the men who were dancing and started to dance with them. They all shouted and clapped as she did, each taking a turn to spin her around the small room. The ribbon fell from her hair, leaving her braid undone, her hair a wild mess of flame under that flower crown as she spun. During one of these turns, she caught his eye. The song ended, all of the men clapped and she did a slightly wobbly curtsy for them. Then she was walking over to where Sandor was sitting.

“Sandor!” She didn’t stop moving toward him once she got to the table. She bent her head down toward his, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. The bad side. Sandor didn’t know how to react. It was a quick peck, but he couldn’t move. She moved away, a huge smile on her face. _She’s drunk. She doesn’t even realize what she just did._

“Thank you.” She touched his shoulder. “Thank you so much.”

“It’s nothing, little bird.”

“Well,” She looked thoughtful. “It is to me.” She moved her head sideways, squinted her eyes at him.

Sandor squinted his eyes right back. “What?”

“Dance with me.”

Sandor barked out a laugh. “No.”

She grabbed his hand and lifted it off the table. “It wasn’t a question Sandor.” She tried to pull on his hand, but he didn’t budge. He just laughed at her as she whined. “Come on, Sandor! I know you’re a lovely dancer!”

For a fleeting moment, he realized how easy it would be to pull on her arm and have her end up in his lap. He shook it away out of his head. He couldn’t think about her like that. _Well, if she didn’t make it so fucking difficult._

“Princess Sansa!” Darol. Here he was again.

“I’m not going to let this go Sandor!” She yelled as Ser Darol pulled her away from him.

He watched her dance with Darol. He watched her hands lay on his chest as she lost her balance and almost fell. He watched his hands on her hips, just briefly, as he helped steady her. Sandor clenched his fist and downed the last of his ale. He poured himself another cup.

Some of the men had taken to standing on the table. They were dancing and singing the songs louder than ever. When her dance with Ser Green Boy was finished, they started egging her on.

“Let’s hear that voice Princess!”

“Come on Princess Sansa! Come sing with us!”

She started to protest, but Darol pushed her over to the table. One of the men on the table held her hand and pulled her up onto the table with a strong yank. Sandor flinched, remembering her shoulder. She needed to be more careful. The last thing she needed was to have another injury on the road. Sansa could barely stand on her own two feet she was so drunk. _She’ll pay for that in the morning._

He watched her as she kicked off her shoes onto the ground. “What shall it be then, men?” She said with a mocking manly voice. Sandor couldn’t help himself. He laughed along with everyone else. The men started to shout out different songs. Some of the suggestions, Sandor could never imagine her singing those words.

“The Dornishman’s Wife!”

“Lay my sweet lass down in the grass!”

Sansa shook her head and laughed at all of the suggestions, until-

“The Bear and the Maiden Fair!”

Her eyes were wide. “Yes!” She pointed at the man who said it. “Perfect!” She motioned to the singer and he started the music. Sansa began singing the song. He hadn’t heard her sing since the night he took a song from her. He was glad that this time was under a much different circumstance. She began to sing alone, but soon the rest of the men sang and shouted along with her.

_Oh, I'm a maid, and I'm pure and fair!_

_I'll never dance with a hairy bear!_

_A bear! A bear!_

_I'll never dance with a hairy bear!_

_The bear, the bear!_

_Lifted her high into the air!_

_The bear! The bear!_

_I called for a knight, but you're a bear!_

_A bear, a bear!_

_All black and brown and covered with hair_

_She kicked and wailed, the maid so fair,_

_But he licked the honey from her hair._

_Her hair! Her hair!_

She lifted the hem of her skirt, showing her bare feet as she stomped and spun on the table. The flower crown fell from her head and she didn’t even notice. Sandor laughed to himself, thinking of what Lady Catelyn Stark would think seeing her eldest daughter behaving such with a bunch of drunken men. But he didn’t care. He was having too much fun watching her. When the song was finished, she got the loudest applause he heard all night. She bowed toward her audience and laughed. They began to sing another song but Sandor kept his eyes on her. He saw Ser Darol striding toward her on the table. He had his arms out toward her, and she did the same. When he got to her, he put his hands on her waist and lifted her from the table in a swift motion. She put her hands on his shoulders from balance. He got her to the ground, but still held his hands at her sides, for a moment too long. But he saw the look in Sansa’s eyes. She looked up at Darol, in a way that no one has ever looked at Sandor. _She would never look at me like that._ He was too drunk now to push the thought away. He realized that he _wanted_ her to look at him in that way. But he knew she never would. _And it’s about time you get over it, dog. She’s not yours._

He couldn’t watch anymore. He got up from the table and pushed through everyone to get outside. He had to piss anyway. He couldn’t get the thought out of his head. Darol touching her. And she just _let_ him. _Of course she let him. He is her perfect pretty knight. The kind you told her didn’t exist._ Outside in the cold fresh air, his head cleared a little bit. He wanted to hit himself for thinking this way. It was one thing to admire her beauty. But to be jealous of something that would never be his? Sandor felt like a fool. He was ready to go to sleep. He went back into the inn to go to his room. He just wanted one more look before he went to sleep. That’s it. Then tomorrow, he would never think of her in that way every again.

He looked around the room. He looked again. She wasn’t there. He looked a third time. Neither was Ser Darol. _No._ He wouldn’t. _She_ wouldn’t. He found Shae. She was almost as drunk as Sansa. He grabbed her.

“Where is she?”

“Who?” Shae asked. Her eyes couldn’t even focus on him.

He let her go. She would be of no help. He tried asking the more sober looking of men around, but they claimed they saw nothing. Sandor found himself running up the stairs, to Sansa’s room. Empty. The room that he knew Darol was sharing with some others. Empty. He found himself in a fury. _Where could they have gone_? He ran down the hall, down the stairs and out the door. _If he’d done anything to her, taken her anywhere, then I have failed. All because I was fucking jealous._

Sandor roared into the night. How could he have been so stupid? He saw the way they were looking at each other. A couple of young, drunk, beautiful people, what else could be expected? He couldn’t let himself think of that. He had to find her. Find her before anything happened. He planned on circling the inn. If he didn’t find anything, then he would take Stranger and he would find them, if it was the last thing he did.

Luckily, as he walked a first lap in the edge of the wood around the inn, he heard something. Heavy breathing. He followed the sound, and they were there.

He had her pushed up against a big tree. Darol’s mouth was at her throat. Her hands were in his hair. Sansa’s head was tilted back. Her eyes were closed. Her mouth was open. Her face was flushed, from more than just the wine. He heard her sigh. It made his stomach turn. He saw Darol’s hand at her breast, pulling at the light cloth. He couldn’t watch anymore.

He strode right up to them. They were so drunk, they didn’t even hear. Her grabbed the boy by shoulders, yanked him away from her, and threw him to the ground. Sansa screamed. Darol stood, faster than Sandor was expecting. He came at Sandor, but before Darol knew it, Sandor punched him in the jaw. He did the ground hard. He was out.

“What are you doing!” Sansa screamed at him. He turned to her. He couldn’t look at her. He bent down, grabbed her by the waist and threw her over his shoulder. She kicked her legs and screamed like he never heard before. “Put me down!” He ignored her feeble attempts of freeing herself. Her fists were banging at his back as he carried her into the inn, past the drunk members of their group who didn’t even notice, and up the stairs. All the while she screamed and yelled. Cursing him with words that he never expected to come out of her mouth.

He kicked open the door to her room, walked in and threw her down on the bed. She bounced right back up and was right on top of him, pushing at his chest with both hands. He barely budged. “You killed him!!”

Sandor hadn’t thought this far. All he knew was that he had to get her away from him. He just laughed at her. “He’s _fine_. He’ll wake up with a nice little bump in the morning. Nothing less than he deserves.”

She punched his chest. “How _dare_ you!”

‘How dare _I_? What were you thinking? You are a Princess!”

“I’m eighteen years old! I can do whatever I want!”

He ignored the weak comeback. “What do you think your brother would say if he saw you like that? Your mother?”

“Oh I’m so sure you are concerned with what my family thinks!”

“That is no way for a princess to act and you know it.”

Sansa had no response. “Ughh!” She turned from him and started to pace the room. Sandor got a good look at her. Her face was flushed. Her lips were red, swollen from kissing him. Her eyes were as stormy as the sea.

Sandor continued, absolutely furious now. “He’s lucky I didn’t rip his throat out for touching you like that.”

Sansa stopped pacing. She turned and looked at him. A look of realization on her face.

“Oh.” She said. “Of course!” She walked right up to him, put her finger in his chest. “You're just jealous.”

Sandor laughed. “Jealous!”

“Yes. That’s it! You've never kissed a pretty girl. And you’re jealous!” He couldn’t believe what she was saying.

“You don’t know what you are even talking about.”

“I bet you've never even been properly kissed.” He watched as her eyes move to his scars, then back to his eyes. A cruel smile played on her mouth. “You haven't have you?” She laughed. “Just fumbling drunken nights in brothels with whores who couldn't even bare to look at you, let alone kiss you.” She looked up at him, her eyes wide, breathing heavy. She was the most angry he had ever seen her. Sandor took a step away from her. He knew what he was. But he never imagined that she could ever be so cruel. _She’s right though, isn’t she?_

He gritted his teeth and shook his head at her. “Little bird.”

She spun on him. “Don’t _call me_ that!” She pushed him. “Don’t you ever call me that again! I’m not your _little bird_ anymore!”

Sandor stopped. He squinted his eyes at her. “ _Mine_?” Sansa’s mouth popped open. She started to shake her head. He took a step closer to her. “When have you _ever_ been _mine_?” He laughed right in her face. “You are a very confused _little girl,_ aren’t you?” He knew he shouldn’t have said it, but it just came out. “I know you watched me in the river. I know you still have my cloak.” He saw tears brimming at the edge of her lids. But he didn’t stop. “You are _truly_ showing your age, _Princess.”_ He said the word with the most disdain he could muster. “How very mature of you to act this way tonight. And here I am, just thinking that I am doing my job. Protecting _you_. As I recall, you didn’t seem to mind my actions when it was _Joffrey_ at your throat.”

He heard a small gasp escape her mouth. It caught. She smacked him. His scars. Hard.

“Get out.”

The tears fell from her eyes. He couldn’t take it back. He didn’t move.

“GET OUT!” She screamed.

Sandor backed away, but not fast enough. She grabbed the wash basin on the table and threw it at him. It missed him, but the water didn’t. The basin shattered against the wall and Sandor’s tunic was soaked through. He hurried through the door, turned and looked at her. She slammed it in his face. The door jamb rattled.

Sandor’s head spun. He put his hand to the door to steady himself. He heard her, crying. Sobbing. Like he never heard ever before. Sandor closed his eyes. He leaned his forehead against the door. _What have I done?_  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy moly. This was my favorite to write. By far. That's why its so long, and why it took so long. Man. I need a drink.
> 
> Please leave comments for this one. Really anxiously to hear what you have to say.


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to explain what Sansa has been trying to avoid thinking about over the past 2 years. That being said, anyone who is sensitive to abuse or rape might be uncomfortable reading this. I don’t want to spoil the story, but it doesn’t go that far. No one is raped. Just gets kinda close. Just wanna let y’all know.

Sansa

That night Sansa dreamed, but it wasn’t a dream at all. It was a nightmare. It was a memory, as real as it was when it had happened.

It was almost two years ago. Before Maergary got pregnant. They said she was having some trouble with it and Joffrey wasn’t happy. It was obvious, that he was more angry than usual. Sansa remembered him punishing more people that usual who bothered him or looked at him the wrong way.

A knock at the door woke her in the middle of the night. Sansa thought it was Tyrion. There were times when he would come back, drunk, and he would sleep on the chair. Her candle was out by this point, but she could grab another one and light it once she let him inside.

Sansa got out of bed and found her robe. She wrapped it around herself and padded over to the door. She opened the three locks that were fixed to the door and pulled the door open.

Meryn Trant was standing in her door way. She pushed the door back, trying to slam it in his face, but she was too slow. Ser Meryn pushed the door back with such force that she stumbled backwards and almost fell. And then Joffrey walked in.

_No. Please no._

“Get out.” She said more weakly than she tried.

Ser Meryn closed the door. Joffrey looked around the room.

“Where’s my uncle?”

She didn’t answer. He just laughed. He was drunk. She could see it in his eyes.

“My wife is having some trouble getting pregnant.” She backed away from him, away from the bed. He went to the table and poured himself a glass of wine. He downed it fast. “Maybe I chose wrong.” He looked at her. “Maybe I should have married you instead.” He came around the table, coming closer to her. She wouldn’t be backed into a wall. She ran for the door, but he caught her by the wrist.

“I wonder if you would have an easier time getting pregnant.” He reached up and touched her face. She pulled away from him and her head against the door. His hand was behind her head and his thumb traced the tear on her cheek. “We’ll just have to find out then, wont we?” He went to kiss her, but she swung at him with her free hand. Her palm hit him hard, on the ear. He backed away and put his hand over his ear.

Sansa noticed the heavy candle stick by her bed, she ran for it, but he caught up to her. Pushed her onto the bed. Before she could react, he ripped open her robe. She tried to cover herself but he moved her hands away and teared at her nightshift. He ripped it right down the center, revealing her naked body to him. She kicked him, hard in the gut. He grunted, stumbled back and smiled at her. He hit her, with the back of his hand and she fell back on the bed.

“You couldn’t have made this easy.” He muttered. He backed up and walked toward the table. “Ser Meryn!” _Please, no!_ She might have been able to put up a good enough fight with Joffrey. But not Ser Meryn.

The door opened, but it wasn’t Ser Meryn. It was the Hound.

Joffrey turned to the door as he poured himself another cup of wine. “Ah! Dog! Even better.”

The Hound closed the door behind him. He didn’t look at Sansa. Sansa tried to close the opening of her robe and she reached over for the candle stick on the night table. She held in with as strong a grip as she could bear. She _wouldn’t_ be raped.

“Hold her down.” Joffrey said, the glass of wine at his lips, unsuccessfully hiding the cruel smirk. But the Hound didn’t move. Joffrey looked at him. His eyes were hard. “Do it.”

She watched the Hound take a breath before turning to her. He still didn’t look at her.

She didn’t know what to think. He once told her that he would kill anyone that tried to hurt her again. And here he was, about to do the hurting. When he got to her, she swung her arm and the candle stick at him. He grabbed her wrist as it there was no force behind it. He took the candle stick from her and held her hand down against the bed.

“No! Please!” She started to cry. She couldn’t believe this was happening. Joffrey laughed and walked over to her. He grabbed her other hand, pinned it down, and kissed her. Sansa wanted to throw up. She was going to be sick. His wormy lips moved down to her neck. She opened her eyes, and staring back was the Hound.

In the dark of the room, she could still see that his eyes were steel. He let go of her hand and put his finger to his lips. Telling her to be quiet. She didn’t move. She looked at him. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. He lifted his right arm, the one holding the candlestick. He took it and swung it down hard, onto Joffrey’s head.

Sansa let out a small yelp. Joffrey a grunt as he collapsed on top of her. But he was only there for a second. The Hound pulled him off of her, and dropped him to the ground. Sansa’s hand went up to her mouth. She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t move. She watched as the Hound stood over his limp body, glaring at it. He almost looked like he wanted to hurt Joffrey, even worse than he already had. She watched him slow his breathing before he bent down, picked up the king and tossed him over his shoulder. He walked to the door, opened it, and walked out, without another look at Sansa.

Sansa lost it. She started sobbing like she never knew she could. She began to lose her breath. She had to calm herself down. She got up and locked the door with shaking hands. She couldn’t breathe. She went to the floor.

She looked down at herself, in her torn nightshift. She took it off and threw it away. Anything that Joffrey had touched, she wanted away from her. She wanted a bath. In scalding hot water. She wanted to peel off the skin that he had touched. She still couldn’t catch her breath. She crawled over to her trunk and opened it. She dug around until she found it. The cloak. She shook it out and threw it over herself, right there on the floor. She curled up underneath it, and after a few moments her breathing slowed.

Sansa didn’t know what to do. She was just attacked and nearly raped by the king. A shudder went through her. _But the Hound. He saved me. He saved me. He saved me_. She repeated the words in her head until they no longer made sense and she fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo... yeah. 
> 
> It will get better. Not yet. But it will. I promise.


	35. Chapter 35

Shae

It was near the middle of the night when Shae finally decided to go up to bed. She was drunk as ever, but she started to sober up a little bit in the last few hours. She looked around and more than half of the party was gone. Including Sansa. She got up, slowly, and headed for the stairs. She certainly was not expecting what she saw.

Sandor sat facing the door, propped up against the wall on the opposite side. He was asleep. His feet almost touched the door as he slumped down. Shae had to step over his legs to get to the door and into the room. When she walked in, she stepped on something that cracked. The wash basin, it was shattered in pieces that littered the floor.

Sansa was in the bed, fully clothed from the looks of it, and asleep. Shae got undressed and put on her nightshift before pulling back the covers and laying down next to her.

At the movement, Sansa woke up.

Shae noticed her eyes were red and swollen. Her face was streaked with stale tears. As she looked at Shae, more fresh ones came.

“Shae.” Sansa cried. She threw herself onto her, the way Shae had done before, and she cried. Shae didn’t say anything. She just held Sansa as she cried herself to sleep.

_What happened?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little baby one. More later. We'll figure this one out. Don't fret.


	36. Chapter 36

Sansa

_I am never drinking again._

It was the first thought Sansa had when she woke up. She only knew she was awake because of the pounding in her head. Her eyes would not open. They were swollen shut. And dry.

“Shae?”

There was no answer. She felt around the bed for her, but it was empty. The more Sansa moved her eyes beneath the lids, the easier they were to open. She was able to open them ever so slightly. She couldn’t’ remember the last time she felt so awful. It was ten times worse than the morning after the ball. She was still in her dress. The sun was just starting to come up. She pulled herself over to the corner of the bed. There was no chamber pot like last time. She knew she wouldn’t be able to stand. She slumped from the bed and onto the floor. She crawled across the floor to the chamber pot and threw up, violently.

When it finally stopped, the images from last night came back to her. She remembers dancing, singing, standing on the table. She remembered dancing with Ser Darol. She gasped. _Darol_. His mouth on hers. Her hands in his hair, her back against the trunk of a tree. His hands, searching, all over her. She put her head in her hands. _What had she done?_ Her head spun with the memory. She was sick again.

_But how did I get to bed? What happened after?_

Then she noticed the shards of porcelain shattered along the floor. The wash basin. _Sandor._

Very slowly, she started to remember their fight. He found her with Darol. Brought her back to her room. She couldn’t remember what they said, just how angry she had been. _What did we fight about?_ All she felt was how angry she was at him. _For what?_ She thought about it.

She remembered crying to Shae. Remembered her dream.

He brought up Joffrey and that night he had almost raped her. Sansa felt tears coming from her eyes. She remembered him laughing at her, about the stream, the cloak. Sansa was mortified thinking of it, and that just made her more angry. _How could he laugh at me like that?_

Suddenly, she couldn’t be in there anymore. She needed to leave. The door opened and Shae came in with water and some bread.

‘Sansa.” Shae put the tray down and strode over to Sansa on the floor.

“Get me out of here Shae.”

Shae glanced toward the door. “Maybe we should wait just a little longer.”

“No. I need to leave.” She tried to stand on her own, but stumbled and fell back. Her head was spinning. Shae came to help her up. She was unsteady, but at least she was standing. “Just help me get to the wheelhouse. I don’t want to see anyone.”

“Well, that might be a little difficult.” Shae said as she walked her over to the table. Sansa grabbed onto the table and reached for the water. She took a sip with shaking hands.

“Why?”

Shae let her go, walked over to the door and opened it.

“Oh.”

From where she stood, she could see Sandor sitting in the hall, against the wall, facing her. He was asleep. He looked pathetic, oddly small. Sansa’s chest ached, remembering his cruel face as he laughed at her. Shae grabbed Sansa’s cloak and threw it over her shoulders, the hood over her head. “Let’s go.”

Shae held her arm as they slowly maneuvered out the door, over Sandor’s legs and down the stairs. Sansa heard a few people in the common area, but she kept her head down as Shae escorted her outside.

The cold air felt good on her face. But the wind brought the smell from the stables over to her nose. Her stomach turned, she was bent over and was sick right on the grass before she even knew what was happening. She prayed no one saw as she wiped her mouth and Shae moved her along to the wheelhouse. When they were in, Sansa collapsed on the cushioned seat. She laid down, put her cloak over her face and started to cry.

Shae pulled the cloak back from her face. “What happened?!”

Sansa told her as much as she could remember. Darol, touching her, and how she had wanted him to. She was sure he told everyone in the party now. Her family would be wroth with her when they found out. Sandor, laughing at her. She didn’t tell her about what happened with Joffrey. She just didn’t want to think about it anymore. She couldn’t believe that Sandor brought it up again, when he was laughing at her. _If he thought it was so funny, why did he even help me then?_ She was so angry. So hurt and confused.

“I have to speak to both of them.” She realized.

Shae nodded.

“But, please.” Sansa continued. “Don’t make me see either of them. Not yet.”

Sansa spent the entire day in the wheelhouse. She changed into a more comfortable dress. Shae made sure the way was clear when they stopped for a break so she could relieve herself. Shae grabbed some food for her. Bread and an apple. She did not want to eat, but she picked at the bread. Shae brought back some clean water for her too. She washed her face and her neck. She felt a little better after that, but she needed a proper bath to feel completely clean.

They stopped in for the night in a clearing. Sansa had to run into the woods again. When she came back, she heard Shae arguing with someone.

“She doesn’t want to see you! Get away before she comes back.”

 _Sandor?_ Her heart beat fast. She wasn’t ready to see him.

“Please, Shae.” Not Sandor. Darol. “I have to speak to her.”

Shae started to fight him again, but Sansa came into view.

“I’m sorry Sansa.” Shae said. “He won’t leave.”

“That’s alright Shae.” She looked at Darol. His face was bruised. He looked like a mess.

“Princess. How can I-“ He started. But Sansa stopped him. She looked around. The others were getting their tents ready, tying the horses away, they didn’t seem to notice.

“Let’s go inside.”

Shae eyed her like she was crazy, but she opened the door for the two of them. Sansa went in first and sat down. Darol came in after her. He started again. “Princess. How can I express how truly sorry I am for my behavior last night. I drank too much. But that is so excuse. I acted like a complete fool. I will never forgive myself for taking advantage of you last night.”

Sansa looked at him. His eyes were pleading. He was truly suffering. He must have thought about what he would say all day. He looked like he would be on his knees if it wasn’t so foolish to do so.

Suddenly, Sansa pitied him. _He probably thought I would take his head for this._ He must not have remembered correctly, but Sansa was pretty sure that she was the one who brought him outside. She took a deep breath.

“You didn’t do anything I didn’t want you to, Darol. I was a drunk. I think I still am.” She left out a small, nervous laugh. She just wanted to ease the tension. It didn’t work. He just stared at her. She continued. “I’m sure all the men had a good laugh over it.”

He looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m sure you told them everything.”

He took a step back. “I would never.”

“You mean, you didn’t tell anyone?”

“No.” He almost looked offended.

Sansa took a breath. She couldn’t help herself. She trusted him. She looked down.

“Thank you.”

He waited. “I don’t think I will ever be able to forgive myself.”

“Darol. Really. Don’t.” She stood. “It- it happened. It might have gone a little too far. But the good thing is, we stopped. And it will never happen again.”

He looked at her. He nodded. Understanding. “Right. Well, we are only about a week away from Winterfell. We’ll get you home safe Princess.”

They said they’re goodbyes and he left. Sansa had a feeling that they wouldn’t speak again, and she was pleased about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright that took waaaay too long. I couldn't write during class! My back was to the professors because we were in groups and they would have knoooowwnn!! Ugh. Well here it is. Gonna post another tonight. And it's gonna be good :D
> 
> Also, girl doesn't seem to remember last night correctly huh? Like those AWFUL things she said to Sandor!!


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to burrrnnnnn!

Sansa

It had been three days since her nameday, and she still barely left the wheelhouse. They hadn’t passed anymore inns, and they wouldn’t by the time they got to Winterfell in a few more days. The nights were cold in the wheelhouse, but Sansa had a bunch of furs to keep her warm and Shae nearby for the extra heat. She missed riding her chestnut, but she was still afraid to show her face. She knew Darol didn’t tell anyone anything and she was glad that they had talked. Cleared the air. But there was still Sandor. He hadn’t come to her to apologize and she certainly wasn’t going to go and find him.

Sansa found that she dreaded making it to Winterfell. She was safe here in the wheelhouse. Safe from the rest of the world, from her responsibilities. On top of it all, getting to Winterfell meant back to a regular routine. With Sandor. He would be around her every moment of every day as her sworn shield. She just didn’t know if she wanted it anymore. Sansa decided that if she was only going to have a few more days of avoiding him, then she was going to relish in it.

It was in the middle of the night when it happened. Sansa woke up to a frantic knock at the door. She smelled smoke. She heard yelling and horses neighing.

Shae opened the door and the cold wind blew in. Sansa pulled the furs up over her head.

“You and the princess need to get out. There is a fire in the camp.”

Sansa shot up. “A fire?”

It was Darol. “Yes. One of the tents caught fire.”

“Can’t the horses just pull the wheelhouse?” Shae asked.

He shook his head. “The horses are spooked from the fire. It will be safer if you walk further away yourselves. We’re all gathering up on the road.”

Shae and Sansa got their cloaks on, Shae grabbed another fur and wrapped it around herself. She wasn’t used to the North. When they got to the crowd of their party, Sansa noticed that not everyone was there, though everyone was busy somehow. “Where is everyone else?”

Darol answered her. “Moving the rest of the tents, tending to the horses.”

Sansa could see the blaze in the distance. “Shouldn’t it be put out?”

Another man spoke up. “The river is close by, but, the buckets of water weren’t doing anything for it Princess. We just have to let it burn out.”

It didn’t make any sense. “What about the trees? What if it catches?” No one answered her. “Whose tent is it?” She knew that Sandor would be as far from the fire as possible. But he wasn’t, otherwise he would be with her.

She walked over to where the horses were being gathered. They were going mad. One more than the others. Stranger was kicking his front legs into the air like she had never seen him before. “Where’s Sandor?” She yelled to the men who tried to hold him. No one answered her. “Where _is_ Sandor?” She yelled. Stranger stopped kicking, but he neighed loudly, frantically. And then she knew. Sansa’s heart started to beat faster. She was breathing heavy, starting to panic. Something is wrong. Very very wrong. Before she could question herself, she ran, toward the fire.

“Princess!” She heard someone yell, but she didn’t stop. She was surprised when no one followed her, but glad that no one tried to stop her. Shae must not have seen. She ran as fast as she could, toward the flame and smoke. She finally got there and all of the other tents had been taken away. Only the one remained.

One side was completely covered in flames that licked up the canvas to the top of the tent. The lower hanging branches of the tree above it were already on fire. The smoke was overwhelming. But she knew, she just knew something was not right.

She tucked her hair into her hood and pulled it tight over her head, praying inwardly that the thick wool would not catch. She ran to the opening, trying to hold her breath, and lifted the untouched side of the tent. It took her a moment to see through the smoke that burned her eyes. But he was there. Sandor. He laid on a bedroll. _Asleep? Unconscious?_ She supposed the latter. She threw herself on him, to wake him up, but he wouldn’t move. How was she going to do this? Then she saw the flames that licked at his legs. Her eyes went wide and that made them burn all the more. Frantically, she went to the untouched edge of the tent, by his head and lifted it. She turned back to him, on her knees, her shoulders holding up the tent to the free air. She grabbed his bedroll and pulled with all of her might. It took a moment to get it moving with all of his weight, but it worked. After about a minute of pulling, she had him out of the tent. But she didn’t have a second to breathe. His left leg was on fire. She ripped off her cloak and threw it on his leg. She screamed as she smacked the fire underneath the cloak, finally putting it out.

It was so hard to breathe with the smoke and the cold. She just wanted to collapse there, in naught but her nightshift, right next to him. But she couldn’t. She had to push through, get him further away. _He would do it for you._

And then she realized she had no choice. She heard the creak of the dry wood above her. She didn’t bother looking. She got behind his head again and grabbed the bedroll. She yelped from the pain in her hands, they were covered in blisters from the heat under the cloak. But she held on tight as she pulled him away from the flames. The creaking got louder, but the pulling got easier. Sansa realized she was pulling Sandor downhill. Toward the river. _Yes._ She pulled harder and looked up, the flame was moving fast through the old tree, right above them. _It’s going to collapse. Right on top of us._ Finally, Sansa felt her feet hit the water. Ice cold, but beautifully wet and calm. The creaking was louder, and Sansa knew it was going to fall, any second. She needed to get him in the water. He would be easier to move out of the path when the water would help hold his weight. Her knees were in the water now.

With one last yank, she pulled him into the river, and pulled her shoulder back out of the socket. Sansa screamed from the pain. But there was no time. The branch began to fall as she pulled Sandor, with one hand, completely into the water, and not a moment too soon. She got to the middle of the river bed, gasped one last breath and went under the surface with an unconscious Sandor, just as soon as the heavy flaming branch came crashing down, right on top of them. Her eyes were wide in the water looking at the flames that were only inches above the surface, and inches away from her and Sandor. She held Sandor to her chest with her right arm as she pushed away from the fire under the water. She was a good twenty feet away before she felt safe enough to come up for air. When she did, the smoke was still so heavy she couldn’t even breathe. It was better underwater. She put her head back under, but kept Sandor’s face above the surface. She kept the pace in the water, thankful that Sandor didn’t wear his armor to sleep. The cold was beginning to slow her, her shoulder was killing her. It didn’t help when she bumped it into a boulder either. She checked the air again, the smoke had dissipated. She felt that they were far enough away from the flames, that it was safe enough to come out. Sansa couldn’t remember being so cold in her life, so out of breath. Silently she thanked herself for being so strange for holding her breath in the bath so often.

She thanked the gods that the current in this part of the river wasn’t too heavy. She couldn’t see anything in the darkness this far away from the flame. Her left arm was no use to her. She just moved sideways in the water until her feet touched the river bed. She pulled Sandor until she had to crawl out of the water. Her skin was ice cold. The wind made it one thousand times worse. She was glad no one was there to see her, soaking wet, her nightshift plastered to her body, making it absolutely transparent. She didn’t think she had anything left in her. But she had to get him out. Luckily, the water’s edge was not as steep as it was on the other side. She held her left arm to her chest, and grabbed him underneath his right arm with hers. She pulled with all she had left, and finally he was out of the water. She looked over to where the fire still roared in the distance, wondering how it would ever be put out. As if on cue, she heard thunder, and the sky opened up, covering them and the blaze in a cold rain. Sansa laughed and looked at Sandor.

She crawled toward him until she held his face in her blistered, shaking hand. Suddenly, he choked. His head lifted off the ground, water came out and he continued to choke for a moment. He fell back into the earth. Sansa hovered over him, all anger forgotten, holding his face in her hand. He opened his eyes, weakly. But she could still see their foggy softness. He swallowed and whispered. “Sansa.” His eyes closed again and his face turned against her hand.

Sansa felt like she could finally breathe. _He’s alive._ She let go of his face, and collapsed on the ground next to him. She looked up at the clouds in the sky, thankful for the rain they gave. She felt herself start to fade. _He never said my name before_. And then there was only darkness, and cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehhehh I had you there didn't I? Not the kinda burn you were hoping for? Poo. I guess you'll have to keep reading. 
> 
> *more maniacal laughter*
> 
> On a side note: I'm going to sleep. Subbing in the morning in a school where I don't get wifi and I actually might have to do some teaching. So tomorrow's update may come late! Its gonna be super duper long too. Until then my friends...


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ten Thousand hits. This is madness. Thank you all so much for reading.

Sandor

When he woke up, he didn’t know what to think. He felt the pain before he opened his eyes. His leg. _What the fuck happened to it?_ The first thing he saw was Shae. She hit him, clearly not caring about the state of agony he was already in.

“What happened to her! What did you do!”

“What? Who?” He said, trying to block her blows.

Shae moved out of the way and pointed behind her. “Her!”

He hadn’t seen her for three days. Not since her nameday. And here he was, lying next to her in the wheelhouse. She was asleep, or unconscious. Her hair a mess, fanned out behind her on the pillow. Her shoulder was wrapped tightly to her chest and her hands were bandaged.

“What happened to her?” He ignored the searing pain in his leg as he tried to get up, resting on his elbows. But Shae pushed him back. He looked down at his leg. It was completely bandaged. It was a kind of hurt that he only experienced once before in his life. _Was I burned?_ “What happened?” He asked Shae roughly.

“One moment she is standing next to me,” Shae said. “The next she’s gone! The rain put the fire out-“

“Fire?” So he had been burned _. But how?_

“Yes fire. What do you mean? You don’t remember?” Shae said.

“No.”

Shae looked at Sansa. “There was a fire in one of the tents in the middle of the night. They say she went running toward it. We found her, with you, on the other side of the river. You were both soaked to the bone, freezing cold and unconscious. Your leg was burned, her hands were blistered and her shoulder was out of place again.”

Sandor couldn’t remember anything. He remembered getting properly drunk before going back to his tent to sleep another miserable night away.

“Was it my tent that was on fire?”

Shae shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

He was so confused he didn’t know what to think. He looked at Sansa. “Is she going to be alright?”

Shae shrugged again, her eyes were red. “I don’t know. She has a fever from the cold. She’s been sweating and shivering since last night.” Her face was pale and it looked clammy. “There are no inns between here and Winterfell and I don’t know what to do with herr. We have nothing for your burns, her blisters.” Shae was completely distraught.

Sandor glanced out the window. It looked to be midday. He looked around the wheelhouse, frustrated that he couldn’t move. “Put another fur on her, cover her chest. You need to sweat the fever out.”

Shae did as she was told, pulling another heavy fur up to Sansa’s chin. Sandor sighed and tried to relax against the cushion. He winced as he moved his leg, the burned flesh rubbing underneath the dry bandage making him cringe. _Can’t be as bad as my face._ Sandor turned his head toward Sansa. Her skin was so white. Not the beautiful soft color is usually was, a pale sickly color. _She will wake up_ , he thought. He decided that he wouldn’t look away from her until she did.

* * *

Sansa

Sansa opened her eyes, for what felt like the first in a very long time.

“Sansa!”

“Shae?” Her voice was weak, her throat dry. Sansa blinked a few times. She was in the wheelhouse. It was moving.

The last thing she remembered was laughing at the rain, shivering in the cold. _And Sandor. He said my name._

“Sandor?” She tried to sit up, frantically remembering.

Shae grabbed her shoulder and laid her back down against the soft cushion. Sansa winced at the pain in her shoulder. It was back in place, she wondered how. She felt at her hands. They were bandaged. Shae looked at her once she was settled. “He’s alright. He’s here.” Shae looked to the right and Sansa’s eyes followed.

Sandor was there. Laying down, opposite her. Through her hazy eyes, she saw a look in his eyes that she had never seen before. _Relief?_   He shuddered out a breath and turned away.

“How long has it been, since the fire?”

“It was the night before last. Its midday now. And we are about three days from Winterfell.”

Sansa nodded. Shae continued. She looked upset. “You’ve had a fever Sansa. This is the first time you’ve come out of it! We found you two, soaking wet and freezing cold by the river.” Shae looked like she would hit her or shake her if she wasn’t injured and ill. “What happened? Why did you run!”

She realized Shae wouldn’t have known. _Maybe they didn’t know that I saved him?_ She felt so silly thinking of it. _Me saving the Hound._ Suddenly Sansa realized that Sandor might not know what had happened either. But her eyes were heavy and her mouth was dry. She just wanted to sleep.

When she woke again, the wheelhouse was dark. She had a fur over her. She heard the wind roaring outside, Shae lightly snoring somewhere in the wheelhouse with her. But that wasn’t all. She heard someone else, breathing steadily. She looked across the space to her left where the noise had come from. The light of the moon coming through the window was bright enough that she could make out his shape. He was slightly propped up on his folded arms underneath his head. He stared at the ceiling. He was awake.

“Sandor.”

He turned toward her, at the sound of her voice. Her nose was clogged, from being out in the cold she figured, so her voice sounded off. She sounded sick. He didn’t say anything as he looked at her, he just turned his head back to the ceiling.

“What- what are you doing in here?” She asked him softly. She didn’t want to wake Shae. She just couldn’t believe she had been sleeping in the same room as Sandor. Just mere feet away from him. It made her blush, just thinking about it.

He cleared his throat. “Can’t ride. Can’t really move.”

He gestured toward his leg. He had a fur over the rest of his body, but his left leg was exposed, elevated on a cushion. It was bound tightly in bandages, from his upper thigh to his mid-calf.

“Right. How is it then?”

“I’ve had worse.” He let out a bitter laugh. Sansa didn’t know what to say to that. He waited a moment, before speaking again. “What happened? I don’t remember a thing. Just falling asleep, drunk.”

She remembered everything about saving him. And she was glad she did, even with the sickness, blisters and busted shoulder. She would have done it again. She told him, from the beginning. Waking up, not seeing him, Stranger acting more strange than usual. How she ran to the fire, found him inside and pulled him out. How she put out the fire on his leg, dragged him into the river and pulled out her shoulder. She mentioned the flaming branch, swimming away and taking him back out of the river. Sansa felt a little ridiculous saying it all. It didn’t sound like her. She still couldn’t believe she managed to do it all.

“Thank you.” He said. Words she never expected to hear from him. “You shouldn’t have done- any of that.”

“You would have done it for me.” He didn’t say anything. She took a breath. “How did the fire start? Did you have a candle?

He looked at her, his eyebrow raised. “ _Me?_ You’re asking _me_ if I brought a candle into my tent.”

“Right.” She shook her head. “It’s just, you were nowhere near the fire in the middle of the camp. I don’t understand how it could have started.

“Neither do I.”

“Aren’t you curious?”

“Of course. If someone tried to kill me, I would like to know who.”

Sansa stopped breathing for a moment. She felt so stupid, but she hadn’t even thought of that. _Who could have, or would have lit the fire? Who would want to hurt Sandor?_ Certainly not anyone in her traveling party.

“We’ll figure it out. Somehow.”

He shrugged, not seeming to believe her. It seemed as though the conversation was over, but something still hung heavy in the air. She needed to talk about that night.

“I’m very angry with you Sandor.”

“Oh?” He said. He yawned, disinterested. “Whys that?”

“For what you said. For bringing up- for comparing that night to what Joffrey did to me.”

She heard him sigh. “Then maybe you should have let me burn.”

She ignored that. “Why did you say it anyway? “

He waited a moment before answering. “I wish I hadn’t. I felt guilty for it the second I said it.” He paused. “But there you were, screaming at me, pushing and punching me. Saying words that I didn’t even know were in your vocabulary.” He stopped. From the corner of her eye, she could see his massive chest rise as he took a deep breath, in and out. “Saying the most cruel words I’ve ever heard escape your mouth. Certainly not anything your septa taught you.” He laughed under his breath.

Sansa’s head was spinning again. She stared hard at the ceiling. _What had I forgotten about that night?_ All she remembered was him laughing at her and comparing it to that night with Joffrey. “Sandor. What did I say?”

“I don’t think it will make you very happy, knowing.”

“Please. Tell me.”

He took a deep breath and shook his head. “You told me I was jealous.”

She covered her eyes with her bandaged hand. “I didn’t. Oh please tell me I didn’t”

He laughed. “Oh you most certainly did.” He continued, in a mocking tone. “Jealous of Ser Darol Hornwood, because I never kissed a pretty girl. And then something about drunken nights with whores who couldn’t bare to look at me, let alone kiss me.”

Sansa closed her eyes. How could she ever have said that to him? She must have wanted to hurt him, bad, if she said something like that. She was mortified. No wonder he had turned on her.

“I’m never drinking again.” She said.

“As we have all said at some point in our lives.”

She sat up, slowly, supporting herself with her good elbow. She looked at him. “Sandor. I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t mean that.”

He kept his eyes ahead, staring at the ceiling. “Well, it was true, at any rate.”

Sansa laid back down, looking up at the ceiling again. She didn’t know what else to say. He looked like it didn’t bother him. _But why would he bring it up if it didn’t?_ “What a monster I am.”

“Hmmm.”

Sansa half expected him to accept her apology. To tell her that she was being too hard on herself. But she should have known better. _Sandor Clegane is not the type to hold back, to lie, just so my feelings don’t get hurt._ Sansa took a breath. She said what she wanted to about that, and now it was time to move on.

“I think we need to address a few more things, before we can go back to normal when we get to Winterfell.” _If there ever was a normal for us._

She saw him fidget, moving his arms and shoulders into a more comfortable position. “Like what?”

“The cloak.” He waited. “I kept it in my trunk since that night. The Battle on the Blackwater. I- I didn’t want anyone to find out that you had been there, in my room.” She swallowed. She could hear her heart beating in her ears at the lie. She was hoping it was enough explanation. She waited for a question, but none came. So she continued. “Maybe we should talk about that too.”

“What?” He grumbled.

“That night.” She swallowed again. “If you were trying to leave, to flee the battle and the city, why did you come for me?”

“Figured you’d be safer with me.”

“But why did you- care? It’s something that I never understood.” She could hear her heart beating in her ears, but she couldn’t stop now. “I thought you were there to-“ She couldn’t say the words. He was completely silent. “But then I realized you wouldn’t hurt me. And that you, you never had. Hurt me, I mean. It was always the others.” She turned her head toward him. “And why did you stay?”

He turned his head toward her, not missing a beat. “Why did you ask me to?” He looked her straight in the eyes. In the light of the moon his eyes looked like they were made of stone. Her gut told her to turn away, but she knew she shouldn’t. She thought about it for a moment, under his steel gaze.

“Because, I knew I would still be safe, for the most part, if you were there. If you had left, what would have happened to me?” She remembered Joffrey ripping at her robe and Sandor cracking his skull. She knew he was thinking of the same thing.

He shook his head. His eyes suddenly soft. “I don’t know.”

“I do.” She said. She looked at him again. “Thank you. For staying.”

He nodded. “Is that all then?” She could see him turn his head to her. She kept her eyes straight ahead, at the ceiling. In the back of her mind, she saw him in the stream. Bathing. She saw the muscles of his back, the pink scars along his arms and shoulders.

“Yes.”

He turned back. She could have sworn he shook his head before saying, “Good.”

She knew there were still some things left unsaid, but that would have to come with time. Her eyes were heavy again, and she fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. I'll post more later today weeeee!!!!
> 
> Tell me what ya think!


	39. Chapter 39

Sansa

Two more days and they would be at Winterfell. Two more days and she could get some proper medicine for her burns. Sandor too. Sansa couldn’t wait to see Maester Luwin. The godswood. The heart tree. The ponds fed by the hotspring. The glass garden. Her old bedroom. She was dreaming of it now.

She dreaded having to be there as the one in charge. Without Robb. Without her mother. _Without father_. She knew Jon was close by, but Castle Black was his home now. She felt sick thinking of seeing her home without the laughter and happiness that Bran, Rickon and Arya had brought with it. Without Lady. She knew it was going to be different, it was going to feel empty and cold. But if she had to be without her family she was glad that it would be in their home.

She and Sandor were still stuck in the wheelhouse together. She was able to sit up, but still felt too weak from the fever. Sandor however still had to lie back with his leg bandaged. He had tried to stand on his own, but failed miserably. Shae had to find him a sturdy branch to use in place of a crutch so he could get outside to relieve himself. Sansa knew he hated being cooped up inside. She tried not to laugh, because she knew he was in pain. But he was being such a baby. Not about the pain, but about wanting to get out of the wheelhouse. He made it pretty clear, with his complaining about his teeth chattering with every bump they hit in the road and such. After yet another complaint from him, she couldn’t help it. “I mean, I know I haven’t bathed in quite some time Sandor, but I can’t possibly smell _that_ badly.”

He turned to look at her, shock in his eyes- until he saw her smirk and realized that she was joking. Sansa knew there was something in between them, some awkwardness, something uncomfortable that hung in the air. They both ignored it, but she wondered how long that would last.

They stopped for a midday break. Sandor was sleeping when Shae came in with water and food for the both of them.

Shae pushed Sandor with the toe of her boot. “Wake up.” He did. “I have good news.”

“Winterfell? Are we closer than they thought?” Sansa asked.

“No. Still two days away. But in between here and there, we can make a stop to see to your burns.”

“I thought we weren’t going to pass any more inns.” Sansa said.

“We aren’t. But we can go a little out of the way to and make it to the Dreadfort for-“

“NO!” Sansa and Sandor both yelled. They both shot up from their reclined positions at the same time. Shae took a step back, her eyes wide.

“Sorry Shae.” She looked at Sandor, his mouth was set. He would not be going there either that much was clear.

“But you can start healing faster. Why wouldn’t you want to stop? Just for a day?” Shae shivered. She looked like she wanted a hot bath and a nice warm meal.

Sansa thought about Ramsay and shivered. She shook her head. “No. Not important enough, Shae I’m sorry. We will wait for Winterfell.”

And so they did.

As they approached the south gate in the dusk two days later, Sansa was disappointed. She had hoped that she would be able to ride her chestnut back through the gates and into her home again. But she was not well enough for that yet. She knew that Sandor had tried to get on Stranger the day before, but it just was not working. He couldn’t bend his leg and Sansa couldn’t imagine the pain he was in from it. So they were brought in through the gates of Winterfell in the wheelhouse. She couldn’t see enough out the window. Her heart beat a thousand times a second at the thought of being home again. Being called a princess in Winterfell. It was so bizarre, she didn’t know how she would take to it. She looked over to Sandor. Being here now, in the cold, it was so strange to think that he would be with her every day.

They went through the gate and Sansa had a very strange feeling come over her. She couldn’t express how happy she was to be home. But the last time she went through these gates she was with her father, Arya, Lady. She had been afraid of the Hound. She had hopes of marrying her handsome prince, of living the rest of her life in the south, in the warmth surrounded by her yellow-headed children. She shivered at the thought. Here she was now, a woman grown, Princess of Winterfell. Without her family. Her sister and brothers missing. Her father dead. And Sandor Clegane next to her, her sworn shield, _her friend._

When it stopped, Shae helped her down the step of the wheelhouse. Sandor was behind them, wooden crutch in hand. The first person she saw waiting in the long line was Maester Luwin. He looked so much older than he had when she left Winterfell, so long ago. She walked over to him, with Shae’s support. His smile was magnificent.

“Princess Sansa. Welcome home.”

Sansa didn’t know what came over her. She strode right up to the old man, the man who pulled her from her mother, who healed her hurts, who counseled her father and brothers, who had helped to raise her. She threw her good arm around him.

“Oh!” He said, completely shocked. But soon his arms wrapped around her, returning the hug. He laughed. She pulled away, smiling, but with tears in her eyes.

“Sweet girl. How you’ve grown.” He kept his hand on her shoulder.

There was a whole line of people. Most of whom she remembered, but some who were new. She heard all of their names, but she was too overwhelmed to remember. She will have to find out from Maester Luwin later.

Sansa, Maester Luwin, Shae and Sandor continued into the Great Hall.

Once they were in the warmth, Sansa needed to sit down. She knew Sandor did too. Once they did, there were a few things that Sansa needed to address immediately.

“Bran, Rickon. Any word?”

Maester Luwin shook his head, sadly. “No. Nothing yet. No word on Arya either. I was going to write to Robb to see if we could send out a few more search parties.”

Sansa nodded right away. “Please. As soon as possible. Winter is coming.”

She saw Maester Luwin smile sadly at her saying the Stark words.

“Maester, you remember Sandor Clegane.”

Both men nodded toward each other. The maester wasn’t successful at hiding his obvious wariness. “And this is Shae.”

“Welcome.” He bent his head toward her.

“First thing is first. Sandor needs treatment immediately.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Sandor turn his head sharply toward her. “His leg was badly burned from an incident on the road.”

“Of course.” The maester said. “I see that you may need some treatment as well?”

Sansa looked down at her hands. “Yes, I suppose. Blisters, is all.”

“Well, why don’t you and Shae go up to your room? Maybe take a bath, relax from your long journey. We’ll have some hot food sent up and I will be there soon for a salve for your hands.”

Sansa nodded, sighing. “Perfect.”

They all stood. Maester Luwin looked at Sandor, up and down.

“Are you truly able to walk?” Sandor nodded. “Alright, then. You may follow me.” Sandor took one last look at Sansa. His jaw was as hard as his eyes. He was gritting his teeth. She hid a smile as he turned to follow the maester.

Sansa started to make her way to her old bedroom, but two girls appeared and stopped her.

“We’ll take you to your rooms princess.” The smaller of the girls said.

“Oh that’s alright, I remember the way.” She turned to go again, Shae right behind her.

“But, Princess.” She turned back around. The older girl was speaking. “You will be staying in the Lord’s Quarters, as it were, until the King gets here that is.”

“Oh.” Sansa stopped. She swallowed and shook her head. “I’m so sorry, you are?”

“We are your new handmaidens Princess.”

“Oh lovely.” She looked at Shae. Her eyes were cold. “What are your names?”

The smaller girl with dark hair spoke first. “Anna, Princess.” She curtsied. Her eyes were a light brown. She looked similar to Darol the more Sansa looked at her.

The older girl spoke next. “Mallory.” She was almost as tall as Sansa, but she had more curves and quite a chest. Her hair was shorter, a mousy brown color. Her eyes were a very dark green. Her face was quite round, but she was very pretty.

“I’m very happy to meet you both.” Sansa turned to Shae, who stood with her arms crossed. “I would like you to meet Shae. She has been my handmaiden for the last few years in King’s Landing. You will see to her if you have any questions.”

Shae looked at her, her forehead crinkled. Sansa raised her eyebrows to her.

“Shall we go?” Sansa looked back to the girls and smiled. They nodded and turned, heading in the opposite direction to the Lord’s Quarters.

As they walked through the halls and up the staircase, Sansa trailed her fingertips along the stone wall. She closed her eyes and smiled, feeling the warmth of the hot springs pumping through the pipes. Before she knew it, they were at her parents’ old bedroom. Mallory opened the door and Sansa stepped inside. Everything was exactly the same. The flames burned bright and warm in the fire place.

Shae looked at the trunks in the room. “Mallory, you can start by unpacking the princess’ things. Putting the clean clothes in the wardrobe, the dirty ones down to the wash. Anna, San-“ She stopped herself. “The princess will be needed a bath. A hot one.”

They both nodded, and got right to work.

Shae turned to Sansa, a small smile playing at her lips. Sansa shook her head. _She is going to have too much fun with this._

Sansa took off her cloak and Shae took it. She walked over to the bed and felt the furs with her fingers. Her heart ached, imagining her mother and father sleeping here together. It didn’t happen often, but there were times when she was very young that she would sneak into their room during a summer thunderstorm. She remembered snuggling up in between her parents, her father throwing his arm around her as he slept. She remembered feeling so safe. Sansa realized she hadn’t felt that safe since.

“What shall I do with this Shae?”

“Uhhhmmm…”

Sansa wiped the tears that fell to her cheeks before she turned around. Mallory held Sandor’s white cloak.

“Oh.” They both looked at Sansa. “You can just toss that on the bottom of the wardrobe. I’ll deal with it later.”

She ignored Shae when she tilted her head at her. Shae was probably expecting her to get rid of it. But she couldn’t. She didn’t know why, but she just couldn’t.

Later, Sansa had her bath. She ate her dinner with Shae, ravenously. Maester Luwin came to her and applied a salve onto her hands before wrapping them in bandages for the night. The salve cooled her blisters. It felt much better. He took off the sling on her arm, deciding the shoulder was fine for the time being. It was then that Sansa learned Shae was the one who popped it back in when she was unconscious. Then, Sansa asked Maester Luwin about Sandor.

“He’s asleep. Milk of the poppy will do that.”

“Milk of the poppy? He’s been dealing with this for days without a word!”

Maester Luwin shook his head. “I don’t want to upset your stomach after you just ate Sansa, but his leg was-“

“That’s alright.” She stopped him. “I believe you.”

He laughed quietly. “I’ll have him brought to his room down the hall. He should be able to resume his duties in just a few days.”

After he left, Anna showed up to bring Shae to her room. Sansa gave Shae a great big hug, thanking her for everything on the road. When they were gone, Sansa realized how alone she felt. She hadn’t slept alone in a very long time. She had gotten used to sleeping next to Shae, _and then Sandor,_ she thought with a blush. She undressed and got into bed. The last time she was in this bed, she was just a girl. And now here she was, the Princess of Winterfell. _It’s just not right. It’s not the way it was supposed to be._ Sansa tossed and turned. She was so warm with the furs and the fire. After a while, she tossed the furs off of her and pulled her hair above her head fanning it out to get it off of her neck. She closed her eyes, but sleep didn’t come.

“Don’t.” She told herself. “Don’t you do it.”

 _Gods. If anyone could see me right now, they would think I am absolutely mad_. She took a breath. _Well maybe I am._ She jumped out of bed and ran over to the wardrobe, pushing her clothes aside and reaching down to the bottom. She grabbed the cloak, wrapped it around her naked self and ran back to the bed. She curled up on the foot of the bed, like Lady used to do, and calmed her breathing. With just the thick wool over her and being close to the fire, her body was the perfect temperature. That night Sansa dreamt she was lost in a deep grey fog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weeeee!!! Tell me what you think!
> 
> I might get a little one up tonight. Little. BUT GOOD THINGS ARE COMING SOOOON!!!


	40. Chapter 40

Sandor

He couldn’t bear the pain anymore. The old man could see it.

Sandor collapsed in a chair the moment Luwin got him into the maester’s turret. Maester Luwin pulled a bench over and helped Sandor lift his leg onto it.

“Milk of the poppy?”

Sandor shook his head. He gritted his teeth and watched as Maester Luwin began to peel the layers of bandages. The pain was excruciating, but nothing that he hadn’t felt before. It gave him chills up his spine, but he kept his eyes open. Pieces of his flesh stuck to the bandage and pulled off with it. It was red, inflamed, swollen and bloody, all the way from his upper thigh to half way down his calf.

“Ah, that’s what I feared.”

“What?”

“Some rot, starting, just in the one area. Here.” He pointed to a spot on his thigh. “Have you had a previous injury here?”

“Two. Sword. Arrow a few days later.”

“Yes, I see the scarring. Well, you’ll have a bit more I’m afraid.”

Sandor laughed. “A bit.”

“I’m going to have to cut it out. I suggest you take milk of the poppy now.”

Sandor waited. He had it when he was a boy. With his burns. It had helped, but it was awful waking up from it. He sighed and nodded.

“Good.” The maester stood up and went over to his stores. “You know, I’ve watched Sansa grow from the very day she was born. I’ve cared for her, taught her, looked after her.” He poured a liquid into a small cup. “Always so proper, compared to her brothers, to Arya. The perfect little lady. Kind, courteous, beautiful. Just like her mother.” _What is he getting at?_ Sandor thought.

Sandor looked at him, he squinted his eyes. “That arrow?” He nodded toward his leg. “Took it while rescuing her from a kidnapping rapist.”

“Yes I heard.” Maester Luwin said, turning back to Sandor with the cup in his hand. “My question is why? Why would a man like yourself, a loyal Lannister supporter, switch sides so very quickly?”

“Who ever said I was a loyal Lannister supporter?” The maester raised his eyebrows at him. Sandor continued. “I could have sworn that you aided Theon Greyjoy when he took Winterfell out from Bran’s nose?”

Maester Luwin didn’t miss a beat. “As all maesters are sworn to do from the time they leave the citadel.”

 _Who does he think he is?_ Sandor’s leg felt like it was burning all over again being exposed to the air.

“I’ll put it this way then. I swore a vow to her. The first vow I ever swore in my life. The first. And the last.” He sat up and reached for the cup, swiping it from his hand and downing it in one sip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok bed time for me! Not sure if I will be able to post anything tomorrow, work and stuff. But I will try! But probably not :(
> 
> Anyhoo. Little thing. I will see you all soon. Don't lose hope!!


	41. Chapter 41

Sansa

One thing that Sansa desperately wanted to know is what everyone at Winterfell did with themselves before she got there. She had only been there a week. Every single day, almost every single person who worked there had a question for her. She wanted to climb to the top of the broken tower and yell _just go on with whatever you have been doing since Robb left! My being here does not make a difference!_

Besides all that, Sansa had to hold court, twice already. She knew she would have to, and it was the thing she dreaded most. She had to give Robb, and her father, credit. It was exhausting. The people of the North were happy to see her, happy to see a Stark in Winterfell. _Happy to get their problems fixed_ , she realized. She had to be sensitive to them. The North is the largest of all of the Kingdoms. She couldn’t believe how far some of them had come. The least she could do was to hear them out. But after hours of sitting in that hard chair with Maester Luwin whispering and murmuring to her, she didn’t know if she could handle it anymore.

Maester Luwin had told her it would be a few days. But it was a week now since they had arrived and Sansa still hadn’t seen Sandor. After she dismissed the court for the day, Sansa found herself asking about him, again.

“I thought he would be alright in just a few days.”

“His wounds are healing, slowly, but they are healing.“ She stared at him. That wasn’t enough.

He has been brought to his room. I can bring you to go see him, if you’d like.”

Maester Luwin led her to Sandor’s room. She hadn’t seen where he was staying earlier, but it was in the same section of the castle as her. Just around the corner and down the hall, further away than Shae. Maester Luwin knocked on the door, before opening it and peeking his head inside.

“Princess Sansa is here to see you Sandor.”

She heard muttering and fidgeting behind the door. After a moment,

Sandor was in his bed, sitting upright against the headboard, his legs out in front of him. He had just a light sheet over his legs.

Even laying there, injured, he still looked so strong. He looked at her, gestured to his leg with his hands, and shrugged.

Sansa pulled up a chair next to the bed.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine. The maester here doesn’t seem to think I can walk, even though I was on the road.”

Maester Luwin sighed. “Just another day or two. I needed the wounds to heal enough before I could let him walk and rip them open again.”

Sansa cringed, closing her eyes briefly. When she opened them, Sandor was looking at her. His face had softened. “I really am fine. Soon enough I’ll be following you around again, your favorite thing.”

Sansa smiled, ever so slightly. She knew he was teasing her. But he doesn’t know how badly I miss him there. Sansa swallowed. She had never let herself think that before. That was the first time. It scared her, how true it was. She shook the thought from her mind.

“We still have to figure out how this happened.”

Sandor drew in a breath. “I have an idea.”

Sansa looked at him. “You do?”

“Ser Green Boy. Probably not too happy after-“

Sansa’s eyes widened. He was talking about Ser Darol she realized. She mouthed ‘don’t’ to him and shook her head as furiously as she could with as little movement possible, hoping Maester Luwin wouldn’t see.

Sandor stopped. _Thank the gods._ She sighed, trying to think of what else to say. _Ser Green Boy?_

Maester Luwin’s forehead crinkled, his eyes squinted when he looked at Sansa. She could see it from the corner of her eye.

“No.” Sansa finally said. Ser Darol would never. She had seen him around the castle, but they had both done a proper job of ignoring each other. “It can’t be. We’ll figure it out though. I know we will.”

Sandor shrugged his shoulders. She had an urge to reach her hand out and hold his as it laid there atop his chest. She almost did it too, until Sandor spoke again.

“How are you then?” He looked at her, at her hands. She waved him off. “Oh I’m just fine.” None of her blisters were raised anymore. Their round callouses still remained and she figured they would scar.

“Sandor told me everything you did for him Sansa. A burning tree, dragging him through the river?”

Sansa felt a heat rise to her cheeks, she looked down at her hands. “You were much less generous in what you told me, Sansa.”

“Was she?” Sandor asked.

“Yes. She only told me about pulling you out of the tent and putting out the fire. She told me nothing of her other acts of heroism. I just can’t picture it, a young, skinny thing pulling this hulk of a man in and out of a river.”

_Are they making fun of me?_ She started to get angry. _They don’t realize how hard it was._

“She was a true hero.” He laughed, but the way he looked at her, she knew he meant it.

As soon as they left the room Maester Luwin turned to her.

“You two seem to get along well.”

Sansa looked at him. “Yes well, I suppose we’ve been through a lot together now.”

“And for you to risk your life for him like that…” He waited. “He’d done it for me, time and time again.”

“Just like he did for Joffrey.”

Sansa knew what he was getting at. She knew he was just watching out for her, but honestly, she was sick of this questioning.

“Maester, I highly doubt Robb would have agreed to this arrangement had he not trusted Sandor himself.”

Maester Luwin looked at her. He blinked, and sighed. She knew she had yet to win him over on this.

“Very well then.”

That night, Sansa couldn’t sleep, again. She just kept seeing Sandor, in his bed. Just around the corner and down the hall from her. She didn’t know why, but she couldn’t stop thinking of it. That urge she felt to reach out and hold his hand. _What was that?_ The last few nights, Sansa had tried to sleep under the furs. She just found herself too hot, but she couldn’t bear to put the fire out. She still needed the light in the darkness. The only way she found that she could get to sleep was from under Sandor’s cloak. She felt so ashamed whenever she walked over to her wardrobe and pulled it out. She couldn’t explain to herself why it had made her fall sleep so calmly, so quickly. She just tried to ignore her questions and forget about it until the next night when she would need the cloak again.

When she finally got to sleep, she had a dream. One she had had before. She dreamt about Darol, kissing her, remembering how it felt. How she had liked it. One night, Darol had turned into Joffrey. It was a night that she had tried sleeping without the cloak. She woke up screaming pushing the furs off of her.

But this night was different. She was with Darol. His lips were on hers, opening her mouth. Her hands wound their way around his back, in his hair. Darol’s hands searched down her neck, her shoulder, her chest. His head followed, his lips, his tongue trailing down her neck. Sansa gasped. She let out a moan. She couldn’t help it, it just felt so good.

Then, everything started to change, the way it did with Joffrey, but different.

Darol was- growing- taller, she raised herself to her toes. His shoulders, his back, widened. She couldn’t wrap her arms completely around him anymore. His mouth on her neck was suddenly rough. His hands, larger, stronger.

She opened her eyes. He looked up at her. She watched his eyes change, from a brown, to steel grey. His face changed. Half of it disappearing behind a dark and twisted mess of scars.

Sansa felt her stomach flip inside of her. She breathed in, grabbed him from behind the head and brought him down to her mouth.

And then she woke up.

Her eyes opened wide. She was immediately awake. She could hear her heart beating in her ears. Fast. She was breathing hard. Shaking. And then she remembered the cloak on her. She gasped, throwing it off of her and onto the floor.

It was the middle of the night. The fire in the hearth was down to embers, but it still lit the room. Sansa’s skin was on fire. She sat up, and tried to slow her breathing. Once she did, she stood. She put her hands on her hips and paced the room. She didn’t know what to do with herself. She was so hot. She padded over to the window and opened it wide. The cold wind blew in and flowed over her hot, clammy skin.

_What is wrong with me?_

She never had a dream like that before. She had never thought of him like that before. But in her dream, she had wanted it. She had wanted _him._ She didn’t know what to think. _I must truly be going mad._

Sansa didn’t know how she was going to look at Sandor the same after that. She turned and looked at the cloak on the ground. She did know one thing. She ran over to the cloak, picked it up by her fingers as if it was covered in filth. She walked over to her trunk and opened it. It was nearly empty. She tossed the cloak in the trunk and shut the lid.

_I am never going to touch it again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp I hope that was worth the wait.
> 
> Man. Yesterday sucked. I mean it was good, but I hated not being able to post anything. I worked, then had to visit some family, then I went to Sleaz-side to see the fiancé's band play at the Gentlemen of the Road thing. Didn't get home til almost two in the morning and I wanted to cry. It was the first day I didn't post anything!!
> 
> Gaaahhhh I hope you all didn't lose hope. If you did, I hope this chapter restored your faith in me. I hope I did Sansa's dream okay. First time writing shit like that ha. Anyway, I don't think I'll be posting again today :( I have school work, a one year old's b-day party, and then weekly GOT bashing of course.
> 
> Tell me what you think!!


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiiiiii!!!!!!

Sansa

Sansa hadn’t slept very well at all over the next two nights. When she did manage to fall asleep, she was awoken by her old nightmares. Horrors that she had witnesses, pain that she had felt, multiplied one hundred fold behind her eyes. When she would wake up, it was usually because of her own screaming.

Being at Winterfell was supposed to be a dream come true. But being the only member of her family there was truly harder than she had expected it to be. When she would look out her window, she could see Bran climbing the stone walls, Arya running around the yard constantly getting under everyone’s feet, Rickon wrestling with Shaggydog. Even though she still held hope and there were several search parties out for all of her siblings, it just felt as if Winterfell was full of ghosts. She still hadn’t gone to see the godswood, the heart tree. She told herself it was just because she was busy, but she couldn’t bear to for some reason. She figured she would wait for Robb to get home and then go with him.

Sansa woke herself from one of her nightmares in a cold sweat. She couldn’t get back to sleep so she paced around the room until the sun came up. She had to admit to herself, she was more comfortable dealing with the pain of the nightmares than she was with the dream she had of Sandor. She still didn’t understand why it happened. She figured it was just because she saw him earlier that day, he was on her mind, because of the cloak. Sansa was almost glad that she hadn’t seen him. She didn’t know if she could look at him the same after that.

She was thankful that Mallory and Anna came to give her a bath in the early morning. The water was hot and she couldn’t resist sinking underneath the surface as soon as she got in. After about a minute, she came back up. The girls looked at her like she was crazy, but they didn’t say anything about it. Anna helped her wash while Mallory stripped the bed of its sheets to wash them. Mallory hummed while she worked and it sounded nice to Sansa’s ears. It had been so quiet in the dark of night. She had been alone for so many hours, it was nice to hear other people around. She had to hold court again today, and she was dreading it. She was glad she had this time to relax.

As the girls were helping her dress, there was a knock at the door.

Anna took over, tying the rest of her dress as Mallory went to see who it was. She cracked the door open a little bit, so that Sansa would not be seen, but Sansa couldn’t see who was at the door.

“Yes?”

“Is she almost ready?” It was Sandor. “Villagers already here.”

Sansa couldn’t believe it. _How is he well enough to walk already?_ Sansa watched Mallory. She stood up straighter, moved her shoulders back, tilted her head a little.

“And who, may I ask, wants to know?

Sansa looked over to the mirror. Her hair was wet, but she was fully tied into her dress.

“Mallory, let him in please.”

Mallory turned her head over her shoulder and looked at Sansa before opening the door wide. Sansa smoothed her skirts and looked up. Sandor was in the doorway, all clean and rested. She looked at his legs. He had his weight on his right leg. His left was held straight. In his left hand, he held a walking stick.

Sansa sighed and looked up at him. It seemed that he was following her eyes.

“If you still need something to help you walk than you should not be standing.”

His eyes turned to steel. “If I spend another day off my feet, I’m going to lose my mind.”

“I could force you back in bed, you know.” She said.

He laughed at her. “I’d like to see you try.”

Sansa swallowed.  _What does that mean?_  She supposed she had set herself up for that one. Her cheeks suddenly became hot as she looked at him. She couldn’t take her eyes off of his mouth, remembering it on her neck in the dream.

Behind her, Anna coughed.

“Oh. Right.” Sansa finally said. “Sandor, this is Anna, and Mallory.” Both girls curtsied, Mallory did so very slowly. Sandor nodded his head toward them. And he, _was that a smile?_ He _smiled_ at Mallory. She looked at Mallory, she was smiling back at him, looking down.

“Is something wrong Princess?” Anna asked.

Sansa couldn’t help the look of confusion that was on her face. She tried to wipe it away. “No, nothing at all.” She took a deep breath and looked back at Sandor. “I suppose we should be going, seeing as it may take some time getting there.” She jabbed at him.

Sandor remained completely unaffected. He held his hand out toward the door and tilted his head toward her, his movements full of sarcasm. She strode past Mallory, past Sandor and right out the door.

They were silent the whole way down to the hall. She felt bad that she teased him for it, but she was right. It was slow going. When they finally arrived, Maester Luwin was there, ready for her. A huge smile on his face. He held a scroll in his hand.

“A letter, from Robb.” He said.

“What is it?”

“Daenerys is on her way.”

Sansa let out a loud breath that she didn’t know she had been holding. _Finally._ It felt like she had been waiting forever, but now she finally had a set time in her mind. Robb had told her once Daenerys was on her way, it wouldn’t be more than two months until he returned to Winterfell. Sansa looked at the long line of Northerners waiting to speak to her. _I am going to count the days._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so still setting some stuff up. Its gonna get good I promise!!!!


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there are typos, don't yell at me. I don't have time to edit D:
> 
> Also - 400 kudos. Are you kidding me? I love you all.

Sansa

 _One more month._ Sansa sipped her tea and let the liquid warm her empty stomach. _Just one more month._ She knew being the only Stark in Winterfell was going to be difficult. But she didn’t expect it to be so draining. Physically, mentally, emotionally. Even with Shae, Maester Luwin, Sandor, Mallory and Anna, she still felt completely and utterly alone.

She received a letter from her mother the day before. Daenerys had arrived. She told her about the dragons. But not with near enough detail as Bran or Arya would have given. Sansa wished she could have seen them for herself, seen a true Targaryen. She supposed someday she would. But that wasn’t even the half of it. She just felt an overwhelming sense of emptiness. The more she thought about it, the more she thought it was Lady. And her father. They were both buried here. She knew that. It was always on the back of her mind, but she couldn’t bring herself to actually think about it. She had walked by the crypts many times. She even stood in the entrance way once, looking in to the darkness, but she couldn’t do it. But today, she decided she would go see their graves. Both of them.

Sandor was waiting for her at the door, as he always did. His leg was much better now, he hadn’t used the walking stick for two weeks. Shae opened the door for Sansa and she strode through. Behind her, Sansa heard something fall and clatter to the floor. She turned and saw the wooden tray Mallory had brought her food on near Sandor’s feet. Mallory stood there, her empty hands out in front of her. Clearly she was the one who dropped it. Sansa had seen the girl carry two buckets of scorching hot water up the stairs many times and she had never spilled a drop. _But an empty breakfast tray?_ Sansa watched as Sandor bent down to pick it up for her. He stood and held it out. Mallory took a step closer to him, took the tray, and put her hand on his arm. She looked up at him.

“Thank you Sandor.”

“You’re welcome, Mal.”

Sansa felt her mouth pop open. _Mal? MAL?_

After another awkward exchange of smiles, Sandor turned away toward Sansa. His face was light, the smile still on his lips. Until he saw Sansa. His mouth straightened, his eyebrows pulled together. Sansa closed her mouth and blinked. She turned from him and went down the hall. _Why did she touch him?_ There was no need to _touch_ him. It just made Sansa feel- uncomfortable. Thinking that her handmaiden and sworn shield be- She couldn’t finish the thought. She already pictured it in her mind. _They are both in my service and it would be extremely inappropriate._ It made Sansa feel selfish, but she couldn’t help but think it. She wanted Sandor to be happy. Mallory too. _But, gods, do they have to be with each other?_ Almost every day when they would cross paths, Sansa would be there too. It almost felt like she was intruding on something private, even in her own room, her own home. If it continued, she might have to say something about it. _Or maybe Shae could do it._

Sandor caught up with her. “Where to today?”

She didn’t look at him. She kept her chin up and her eyes ahead. “We’re going to the lichyard. And the crypts.”

He was silent.

The wind was cold outside, and the lichyard was far, but Sansa wanted to walk. She wrapped her cloak around herself and kept walking. Sansa did not often come to this side of Winterfell. The lichyard was located outside the deserted First Keep, on the North side of Winterfell. She could remember Robb and Jon trying to scare her with stories of the ancient loyal servants to the Kings of Winter coming up from the ground to feast on her flesh. Of course she knew now that that was not true. But seeing it in the distance still gave her an uneasy feeling. When she walked in, she didn’t think about where Lady would be buried. She searched through the rows of stones, looking past the ancient crumbling ones, trying to find one that was just a few years old. Sandor split apart from her and looked on his own. After several minutes, Sansa almost wanted to give up. She was beginning to lose her nerve.

“Here.”

Over the wind, she barely heard him. She looked up. Sandor was standing several yards away over a grave. She swallowed and made herself move her feet. When she got there, Sandor moved out of the way. It was a smaller mound of earth, grown over with long grass now. Sansa slowly sunk to the ground, to her knees. She leaned forward and saw a small stone covered in weeds. She pulled the weeds away and ripped them out of the ground until the stone was uncovered. Lady. That was all it said. Being so close, Sansa almost felt as if a piece of her heart was lying in the ground. She clenched her fists. It was all she could do to not put her hands in the dirt and just dig and dig until she found it and put it back where it belonged. She put her hand on the stone and lowered her head to the cold ground. She laid the side of her face to the grass and closed her eyes. She didn’t know what she was waiting for. To hear her heart beating underneath the earth? To hear her howl? No tears came. It just felt as if an all new hole was being ripped through her chest.

She heard Sandor breathe. “Maybe this wasn’t the best idea.”

She opened her eyes. He was standing over her, watching her. Confusion on his face, but mostly pity. She closed her eyes again. “Don’t look at me like that.” She breathed in. “She wasn’t just my pet, Sandor.”

She heard him move, he kneeled into the ground next to her. She looked at him again.

“I know.” He said. “I saw you with her, remember? On the road. She would have followed you anywhere even if you didn’t have her leashed up like a dog.”

She remembered the day that she lost her. She pictured Arya and Joffrey, Nymeria and the Butcher’s boy. Her father killed Lady and Sandor killed Mycah.

Sansa pushed herself off the ground. “I don’t want to think about that.” She stood on her own, and walked away.

Sandor caught up with her again, but stayed silent. They walked right across the yard and toward the crypt. Sandor walked faster than her and was suddenly ahead of her. As they got to the entrance of the crypt, he turned around and stopped. He put his hands out so she had to stop.

“You should come back another day. Tomorrow maybe.”

She didn’t say anything. She just walked around him and went right into the darkness of the crypt. She grabbed a torch from the wall as she heard him sigh and fall into his place behind her. She strode past all of the old kings of winter as the walls became darker and darker. The only sound she heard were their footsteps on the cold stone. Finally, she saw the grave of her grandfather, her uncle, her aunt. She had never known them, but her father always said the statues looked like them. The same could not be said for the statue of her father. It was the first time she had seen it. And suddenly, she wished she never had. _It looks nothing like him._ She still couldn’t believe he was actually dead. She had seen his head come off his shoulders, his head on a spike. She had seen it thousands of times over and over in her head. But being here, in the crypt, staring at a statue that sat over his remains, it was like he was dying all over again. Like she was losing him all over again. Suddenly she wished she never came. She turned around and walked past Sandor. Where seeing Lady’s grave had ripped a hole through her chest, seeing her father’s left her totally and completely numb. She couldn’t even feel her feet as she walked on them back to the keep. She couldn’t feel the cold wind against her skin.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Sandor as he kept turning his head toward her. She ignored him. And he didn’t say anything. Until they got to her room. She opened the door and was about to close it. His hand stopped her. She looked up at him.

His eyes were wide, filled with concern.

“Are you going to be alright?”

She blinked and nodded. Somewhat reluctantly, he let go of the door. She closed it. She took off her cloak, she ripped off her boots. She loosened the laces on her dress, but didn’t have the energy to unlace the entire thing to take it off, or to call anyone for help. She walked to her wardrobe and moved her dresses aside. She sunk down to the floor and picked up the cloak. She hadn’t even looked at it, not since that night over a month ago. And she hadn’t slept well either. But now she didn’t care. She didn’t want to think about anything. She wanted her mind to be as empty as the rest of her felt. She wrapped it around herself and walked to the bed. She curled up underneath it and closed her eyes.

* * *

Sandor

She didn’t come out for the rest of the day. He didn’t know what to do. Mallory and Anna had gone in to check on her, Shae too. But she wouldn’t come out. When Shae closed the door behind her, her eyes were wide. She looked thoroughly confused, but all she said was that Sansa was still asleep. Sandor didn’t know what to do with himself when he was waiting, so he headed down to the kitchens.

He knew she was going to get upset over visiting the graves. But he hadn’t expected this. He had only seen her like this once before. He remembered her after her father had died. How she refused to eat, to bathe. It wasn’t until he came in her room with Joffrey that she had finally gotten up. He remembered lifting her from the bed. She feebly tried to fight against him and her blanket fell away from her.

She seemed like such a child. She was so small. So fragile. The same couldn’t be said about her anymore that was for sure. If he had known then that someday she would pull his half dead burning body through a river to safety, he would not have believed it. He _still_ couldn’t believe it. He wished he could have seen it. He just didn’t understand why she had done it all.

He got down to the kitchens to grab some food for himself. Mallory was there.

“Oh, hello Sandor.”

“Mal.” He nodded toward her.

She sighed and put her hands on her hips as she smiled at him. She was very pretty with those green eyes of hers. And she seemed to enjoy wearing low cut necklines on her dresses. He would look. Of course he would. He was a man after all. He didn’t know what to think of her. He never had a girl look at him like that. Whores would put on a pretty smile that he could always see through. _But Mallory? What does she want from me_? It was like she didn’t see the scars. Even worse, that she _liked_ them.

She spoke again. “I don’t know what’s going on with her lately.”

Sandor shrugged. “I think she is just missing her family.”

“Well they’ll be here soon and hopefully she can go back to normal again!” She had missed his point. He meant her family that _wasn’t_ safe and alive in King’s Landing. But he didn’t say anything, she just kept talking. “And today, to just curl up under that white cloak in the middle of the day and go to sleep? Its so strange-“

“Under what?”

“This white cloak she’s got.” Sandor held his breath. “The day you all arrived, I found it in her trunk. She told me to put it in the wardrobe. I always wondered why she had it. So I guess that’s what she has it for then. So strange she’s got all these warm furs on that bed and she’s under an old tattered cloak on the end of the bed, like an old dog.” She laughed a little. Sandor didn’t move. He couldn’t.

Mallory squinted her eyes at him and tilted her head. He swallowed and started breathing again. Mallory put her hand on his arm where it laid at his side. “Hopefully she gets over whatever it is soon!” She smiled at him, squeezed her hand, and left.

His mind was still trying to process what he had just heard. He tried picturing her at the end of her bed, curled up on herself, _under my cloak._

 _She lied. She lied to me._ There is a reason she kept the cloak. _She sleeps with it?_ He couldn’t wrap his head around it. He had to find out why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh damn. Sad Sansa. Confuzzled Sandor. More sooooon soon soon. Got a big presentation for the big wigs at school tomorrow - probably should have been preparing for that instead of writing this now that I'm thinking about it - so I might not be able to post anything tomorrow. But maybe I can. Tiny one maybe.
> 
> WHAT DO YOU THIIIINK!!  
> HE KNOOWS! HE KNOOOOOWSSS!!!!!
> 
> So those of you suffering from the slowness of this burn, just hold out for like, just a few more days haha I promise.


	44. Chapter 44

Shae

After the lemon cake didn’t even work, Shae didn’t know what to do. It was the afternoon of the day after she went into her room and she still hadn’t come out. When Mallory and Anna came to her yesterday morning, Shae was confused, but she never thought it was something she couldn’t handle. Sandor was still waiting out the door when she arrived.

“What happened?” She asked him.

“She wanted to see their graves. Her wolf. Her father. After she saw her father’s, her face went completely blank. She didn’t cry. We just came back here and she went inside.”

Shae went in the room and couldn’t believe her eyes. Sansa lay there, at the end of the bed, wrapped in Sandor’s white cloak. Shae walked up to her. Her face was scrunched together, her eyes closed tightly shut. She was asleep, but she was not resting.

Shae suspected that she wasn’t being completely truthful when she told her about the cloak. She said that she slept under it the night he left it in her room. She never mentioned that she still did sleep under it. Shae shook her head.

She knew the way Sandor felt about Sansa, even if he didn’t know it himself. He was always watching her with such a stern look of protectiveness in his eyes. She saw it even before he swore to her, before King Robb came to take the city. Seeing him in the wheelhouse with Sansa when she was unconscious had only confirmed it. She’d never seen anything like it. He laid there, his leg burnt to a crisp, turned toward her. As soon as he woke up he watched her. He didn’t sleep. He barely ate. He kept his eyes on her for every moment until she woke up.

 _But Sansa? Sleeping with his cloak after all of these years?_ No one else could see her like this. _What did Mallory and Anna think?_ She hoped they wouldn’t ask any questions. Shae took the edge of the cloak from behind her and gently lifted it off of her. Sansa shifted in her sleep, but didn’t wake up. Shae went to pull it away, but Sansa still clutched the edge with her hands. Shae bent down and tried to open her hands, loosen their clutch on the fabric. When she did, she saw the light scars on her palms left from the blisters. _Oh._ Shae had almost forgotten. Sansa had risked her life to save Sandor’s. She’d injured herself in the process and seemed to think nothing of it. She couldn’t wrap her head around it.

Shae grabbed a lighter fur and pulled it up over Sansa’s shoulders.

After another hour, Maester Luwin had to come to her. He figured, like the others, that she was just dealing with the grief of losing them all over again. He wouldn’t wake her. He had to cancel court for the day.

The next morning, Shae was glad to see that Sansa was awake. She was standing at the window, looking out. Her arms wrapped around herself. It was snowing. A light snow. But it had already left a coating on the ground.

Shae took a breath, she didn’t want to overwhelm her.

“Can I help you into another dress Sansa?”

Sansa looked over her shoulder at her. Her eyes were hollow, but she nodded her head. Shae grabbed that ugly brown woolen dress from the wardrobe. She didn’t know why she still had it, but she was glad she did. Sansa needed to be in something comfortable. Shae saw the edge of the white cloak peeking out and she kicked it further back into the wardrobe with her foot. Shae continued to loosen the ties that Sansa started and slipped her out of the dress. Sansa wasn’t saying anything and Shae was afraid of saying anything. Mallory brought her breakfast in, and Shae left her.

In the afternoon, Sansa had still not eaten the breakfast. Shae ran down to the kitchens and asked Gage for the best lemon cake he’s ever made in his life. She waited until it was finally ready. She couldn’t help herself as she picked up a crumb and ate it. Shae was sure that Sansa would be able to eat this.

But she didn’t. She didn’t even look at it as she left it on the table. _This is impossible. She needs to eat. She needs to, do something!_

When Shae came out, Sandor was standing there at the door. _If he loves her as much as I do he should be doing more than just standing there!_ She hit him on the chest.

“Do something about this!”

He had a strange look on his face. Like his mind was far away, thinking of something else. He looked down at her, suddenly stern.

“The cloak. Why does she have the cloak?”

Shae stopped. She closed her mouth. She shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He grabbed her by the shoulders.

“I know she was sleeping under it.” _No. He can’t know. Sansa would never be able to live with herself if he had known. “_ Why?” He growled at her. His eyes burned into hers.

Shae closed her eyes. _He already knows. Probably from Mallory_. There was no denying it now. “I don’t know.”

He dropped his hands. His shoulders fell.

“Why?” He said. But he wasn’t asking her. He seemed to be asking himself.

Shae took a breath. “Do something. Try. Try to get her to eat. Try to get her out.”

She turned and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. Small. I'm sorry. I can't believe it but I had absolutely no time yesterday. I was at the college for 11 hours. ELEVEN HOURS. But now I must write a paper.
> 
> I will have chapter 45 to you by tonight. Do not give up hope!


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ladies and Gentlemen... the long awaited Chapter 45.

Sansa

She heard the footsteps running down the hallway, and then the pounding at the door. Sansa sat by the window, watching the snow fall. She figured if it was important enough, they would come in.

The door opened.

“I need you.” She turned. It was Sandor. He looked almost frantic.

“What is it?” Her voice came out lower and softer than she had expected. She hadn’t spoken in quite some time.

“Its Stranger. He’s beside himself.”

She stood. “What’s happened?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen him like this. I need your help.”

Sansa looked at him. She didn’t want to leave. She didn’t want to do anything. But she nodded. She went to put on her boots. Sandor grabbed her heavy cloak off the wall as she laced them up.

He held out the cloak for her and draped it over her shoulders. She clasped the front and followed him out the door. They walked fast, faster than she expected him to be able to. Sansa pulled up her hood when they got outside. The air was cold, but not as cold as it could be with snow. Her feet sunk into the snow, but it was only about six inches high. When they got to the stables, Sansa went faster, ahead of Sandor. _What could be wrong?_ She thought. She ran past the other horses until she reached Stranger’s stall. It was empty.

“Where is he?”

She turned around toward Sandor.

Sansa was not expecting what she saw coming at her.

Stranger was cantering toward her, Sandor on his back. They were coming right at her. She moved to the side to get out of the way, but she wasn’t fast enough. She yelped as Sandor reached out, grabbed her hand, and pulled her up onto the saddle. She landed, side-saddle with an _oof._ Stranger had not stopped moving. He headed toward the open door of the stable and out into the snow.

She turned toward Sandor. “What in the seven hells do you think you’re doing!”

He looked down at her, a smile pulling at the good side of his mouth. “That’s no way for a princess to speak.”

“You tricked me! You lied to me!”

“Well, now we’re even then, aren’t we?” _What? What does he mean by that?_

Sansa felt uneasy sitting this way on Stranger in the snow. She felt like she would fall off at any second. But her left hand gripped Stranger’s mane. Sandor’s arms were around her, holding the reigns. Stranger jerked forward. She had to reach out and grab Sandor’s arm to keep herself steady. She kept it there.

“Where are we going?”

“The godswood.” He said matter of fact-ly.

“Why?”

“Because you haven’t been there since you’ve returned home. And you need something to make you feel better.”

She was silent. He looked down at her again. “Didn’t it used to make you feel better? In King’s Landing? Going to the godswood?”

He said it as if it was so simple. So easy. Sansa sighed. _Shouldn’t it be?_

She tried once more. “I don’t want to go.” She said weakly.

Sandor sniffed. “I don’t care.”

Soon they went through the great iron gate and were surrounded by the trees of the godswood and Stranger slowed. There was less snow on the ground under the trees, but the ground was still white. Sansa could hear the snow shrieks in the trees. Dusk was beginning to fall.

“You’ll have to tell me which way I’m going.”

Sansa sighed. She pointed him in the right direction and Stranger followed. In just a few moments, Sansa started to see the red leaves littering the ground sporadically. And then she saw it. The heart tree. The weirwood. It had been so long since she’d seen one. King’s Landing had a godswood, but the heart tree was not a weirwood. She didn’t realize how much she missed the real thing. Stranger stopped and Sansa slipped off on her own. She walked toward the tree until she was right in front of it. She sat herself down on one of the raised roots. The sad face, the eyes, the red sap dried and dripping from the bark. It used to feel like she was intruding, coming here. But now? _No. It feels right._

She heard Sandor come up behind her. She turned to him. He stood several feet back. Giving her the space she needed it would seem.

“You know, I never came out here very much when I was younger. I usually went to the sept to pray with my mother.” She looked back to the tree.” I think I used to be afraid of it.” She reached her hand out and touched the melancholy face carved into the weirdwood. “There’s something so wild about it. Unnerving almost.” She realized she was mostly speaking to herself, but she knew he was listening.

“I prayed to the seven that Joffrey would spare my father’s life. That didn’t work too well did it?” She laughed sadly. “I had always dreamed of my wedding in a sept. I always thought of how beautiful it would be, the statues, the candles. But I had one of those already didn’t I?” She laughed again, remembering the farce that was her surprise wedding to Tyrion. “I think, if I ever get married again, it will be here.” She patted the ground around her. “Right here.”

She turned back to Sandor. “Thank you.”

He nodded. She looked at him. He had snow melting in his hair. Her heart still hurt, she knew it always would. But she was beginning to feel a little like herself again. More hopeful maybe. _How did he know this would make me feel better?_ She sighed and stood.

“You’ve never seen it have you?”

“No.”

“Isn’t it beautiful?”

He nodded again.

She walked past him toward the cold black pool.

She bent down into the snow, not caring about the horrible dress Shae put her in. She looked into the black water. It was the first time she looked at herself in a while. She looked grey. _How selfish of me. To lock myself away like that. The Princess of Winterfell should never be so irresponsible_. She looked thin. She tried to think of the last true meal she ate. Her stomach grumbled at the thought. Her mind went back to that delicious looking lemon cake left in her room.

Sansa turned her head toward Sandor.

Sandor’s back was to her, looking at the tree. She didn’t know what came over her, she just had to do it. She dug her hands into the snow. The cold felt good on her scarred and itchy hands. She started to pack it in her hands. _Perfect. A little wet, pretty heavy_. Robb and Jon would have had a blast in the snow. Arya too. She made sure it was nice and tightly packed. She stood, quietly. _This is so silly. So juvenile._ She told herself. But she couldn’t resist.

She wound up her good arm behind her and threw it. It hit him with a thud in the back. Right between the shoulder blades. He turned on her fast, his hand on his sword. He was pulling it from the scabbard when his eyes fell on her.

Sansa tried keeping her face serious. She couldn’t help it. She laughed out loud. She covered her mouth with one hand, the other she wrapped around her middle.

“I’m sorry.” She managed helplessly, through her giggling.

His face changed. At first it was as hard as stone. But it had softened when she started laughing. Then he squinted his eyes, a crooked smile creeped onto his mouth. He shook his head at her.

“No you’re not.”

“I know. I’m not. That felt good.”

He bent down into the snow.

“No.” She tried to stop laughing. She backed away. “Don’t you dare!”

He started packing the snow. But he didn’t stop at one. He was making more.

 _Oh no. What did I start?_ She remembered Robb, Jon, Theon pelting her with snowballs. It had hurt. She ran over to Stranger where he stood. He harrumphed at her and she ducked behind him. She knelt in the snow and started to make snowballs of her own.

She peeked between Stranger’s legs. Sandor had at least half a dozen! She gasped and frantically tried to pack her snow balls faster, but they were falling apart. She saw him start to gather his snowballs up in his arms. Sansa’s heart was beating so fast. She grabbed the only good ones she had. It was only four. She got up and ran. She had to get better shelter. She took a chance. She bolted through the snow toward a bigger tree. She took one hit to the shoulder. She yelped. It didn’t hurt like she remembered, but it had scared her. She took another to the back before she got to the tree. She couldn’t help the giggling that came from her mouth. She sounded like a little girl.

She waited to catch her breath before sneaking around the side of the tree.

Sandor stood out in the open by the heart tree. He threw a snowball at her head and she moved out of the way just in time. She peeked her head out from the other side, saw him and threw one. She missed. His laugh seemed to echo underneath the trees. She tried again and hit him on the chest. He didn’t even react. They went back and forth until they were both empty handed. She was out of breath from laughing and running around. She hid behind the tree and made one more snowball. She peeked at him. He was kneeling in the snow making more, but she was too quick for him. She ran at him. He looked up at her. He was wearing the biggest smile she had ever seen on his face. Once she got close, she threw it and hit him right in the head.

“Ugh!” He grunted and fell back into the snow. His legs sprawling out beneath him. She laughed harder than ever. Sansa walked over to him, to help him up. But her feet slipped in the snow. She tripped over a root that she didn’t even notice was there.

She gasped as she fell forward. Sandor put his arm out. She caught herself with her hands.

Sandor burst out laughing where he lay next to her. “The Graceful Princess Sansa of Winterfell.”

She laughed with him. Sansa couldn’t remember the last time she laughed so hard. It felt so good. She crawled over to him on her elbows. She was close to his face as he laughed. She looked at him. His eyes were soft, light.

She looked at his scars through a piece of hair that fell in her eyes. She couldn't believe she used to be so afraid of looking at him. Now when she looked at him, she just felt happy. Seeing him smiling like that, laughing, she couldn’t help but think- _he really is handsome isn’t he?_

He stopped laughing and looked up at her. Still smiling.

She looked at left side of his face. She thought about how he got his scars. She stopped smiling. She swallowed. “I never told anyone, you know?”

His smile faded. But his eyes were still soft. They moved back and forth, looking at hers. His chest rose as he breathed in. “I know.” He lifted his hand to the strand of hair that fell in her face. He took it between his fingers and put it back behind her ear.

Sansa stopped breathing. She moved closer to him. Before she had time to think about it, she kissed him. She pressed her lips to his, softly. She stayed there for a second, before pulling away. Her face hovered above his. His eyes were wide. His lips parted. He looked completely shocked. Sansa shook her head.

“I’m sor-“ His mouth stopped her. He kissed her. Once, harder than she had been. He pulled back. Her mouth was open. She stopped breathing. His eyes changed to stone. But not like anything she had ever seen from him before. She backed away. He raised himself up on his arm. And suddenly he was over her. He put his hand behind her head and kissed her again. Her back was in the snow. His mouth moved against hers. Roughly. And kissed him back. She felt his mouth open, his tongue traced her lower lip. When she breathed in, her mouth opened to his. This was different. Different than kissing Darol. Where Darol’s drunk mouth was wet and sloppy on hers, Sandor was sure, warm, _rough_. She opened her eyes. _Sandor. This is Sandor._ She heard her heart beating in her ears. _What are we doing?_ She stopped kissing him. She stopped moving. He stopped. He pulled back away from her. She looked at him with wide eyes. Her lips felt swollen. He took his hand away from her head, as if her red hair were on fire itself. He backed away from her. Sansa could feel tears in her eyes.

“I’m sorry.” He gruffed at her. She sat up. He moved out of the way and she stood. “I’m sorry.” He said again. She looked down at him where he kneeled in the snow. He was looking at her. He looked like her was begging.

Sansa let out a shuddering breath and she ran. He didn’t call out to her. He didn’t run after her. She ran between the trees, her feet crunching in the snow. _What just happened?_ The tears fell from her eyes and she started to sob as she ran. _What just happened?_

She didn’t stop until she made it through the gate. And then she didn’t have time to think.

“Princess!” It was one of Robb’s men. He was running past the gate toward the keep when he saw her. “Princess Sansa, there you are!”

“What is it?”

“A wolf. At the east gate. They said- they said it almost looks like-“

Before she could catch her breath, she was running again. She held her skirts high. She pushed past him and ignored his calls behind her. She ran through the snow, falling harder now in the night. She ignored the looks she got as she pushed herself toward the East Gate. It had never seemed so far away before. Her boots slipped in the snow, but it didn’t slow her down. Her side was beginning to cramp. The guards at the gate stared at her in the distance. _What are they waiting for?_

“Open the _bloody_ gate!” She was breathless, completely winded.

By the time it opened, she was there and she was able to squeeze through, before coming to an abrupt stop at the top of the hill outside. Right in front of her was one of the biggest wolves she had ever seen. His teeth were bared, a low deep growl rumbled through his chest and rolled out over his black fur like the thunder that threatened the sky. His green eyes were alight in the darkness. He stared through her as if she was a piece of meat.

“Shaggydog.”

At his name, the beast stopped growling. But he didn’t change his stance. He stalked closer to her, his shoulders low. Sansa kept her eyes on him, slowly remembering the stories of how aggressive he had become. She backed up, trying to rein in her fear. Her back hit something sturdy. She would have stumbled, but a strong hand held onto her shoulder. She saw the silver of a sword come down in between her and Shaggydog as Sandor pressed her back closer into to him. Shaggydog started to growl again, but Sansa couldn’t move. “Where is he? Where!”

Sandor started to pull her back through the gate. Somewhere in the distance she could hear men scrambling and yelling behind her, trying to fend off the beast. Shaggydog was undeterred. The only one who could rein him in was his master. “Where is he!” She pushed against Sandor’s arm but he held her too tight against him. The beast snapped his jaws, threatening even closer.

“Here Shaggy!” She barely heard it through the wind. It sounded like a ghost.

And suddenly everything stopped. Shaggydog pulled back and stood, he looked behind him through the snow. Up the hill came a young boy, with wild auburn hair and even wilder eyes. _It is a ghost._

Sansa felt her feet come out from under her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp...
> 
> *puts elbows on table - laces fingers together*
> 
> Thoughts?


	46. Chapter 46

Sandor

From where he knelt, he could see the imprint her body left in the snow.

One moment they were laughing, playing in the snow. Never in his life did he think he would be _playing_ in the snow with Sansa _fucking_ Stark. And then they fell. And then she was there. Over him. Looking at him, his scars. His instinct was to turn away, or to avoid her eyes. He did neither.

“I never told anyone, you know?” Her eyes still on the left side of his face.

_She’s thinking about Gregor._ He still remembered telling her, even after all of this time. Even though he threatened her, he always figured that she saw right through him. That he would never actually harm her. He thought everyone would know about it the next day, or the day after. But no. It had never come back to him. She really never told.

“I know.” He couldn’t help himself. A piece of hair fell in her eyes, blocking his view of her, so he put it back, tucked it behind her ear.

A strange look came over Sansa’s face. At first, he thought she was shocked or bothered by what he did. But then she moved closer to him. _She kissed me. Sansa Stark kissed me_.

Sandor had never been so confused in his life. So completely immoveable. When she pulled away, he could still feel her lips, on his, burning like the coals all over again. It made no sense. But then he kissed her back. And then she was kissing him. And it made all the sense in the world. He wasn’t thinking of anything other than the feeling of her mouth on his, her head, her hair in his hands, the taste of her.

But clearly she was. Almost immediately, he felt her stop moving, stop reacting to him. He pulled away and it hit him. _This is Sansa Stark._ He jerked his hand away. _What am I doing?_

“I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what else to do, to say. He looked up at her where she stood. She had tears in her eyes. Her lips were red and open. He almost reached out to her. _She’s afraid of me_. He felt like he was punched through with a lance in the gut. “I’m sorry.”

And she ran away. He couldn’t move. He watched her run.

_I’m a fucking monster. I scared her. I hurt her._ Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard, _but she kissed you first. She kissed you back_. He pushed the thought away. It doesn’t matter. He took it too far. He had pushed her. And she was afraid of him.

He got up, got on to Stranger and went out to find her. He didn’t know how, but he had to make this right again.

He got to the gate and heard all of the commotion. Saw everyone running. Toward the East Gate. He looked in that direction. In the distance, he could see a shock of red through the white and grey. _Where is she going? What is going on?_ He turned Stranger to follow her. Before they could get to the gate, Stranger stopped in his tracks. Sandor almost went flying. He tried to get Stanger to move but he wouldn’t, he threatened to buck at any moment. Sandor jumped off and kept moving toward the gate.

When he finally got there, he couldn’t believe his eyes. Through the snow and wind, the first thing he saw was her hair, whipping behind her like a torch in the night. Then he saw glowing green eyes. He couldn’t move fast enough. He stood behind her as the black beast moved toward her. He stepped closer as she stepped back, into him. His arm went around her. He brought his sword out between her and the direwolf that was about to rip her to shreds. Sansa fought against him, but he held her closer to his chest.

“Where is he!” She kept on shouting. _Who?_   Sandor wanted to look around, but he kept his eyes on the wolf.

“Here Shaggy!”

The beast changed as soon as he heard the words. He stopped moving, stood straight and looked back at the boy who now walked toward them. He looked about ten, his hair was long and wild, auburn.

Sansa went limp in his hands. He caught her around the middle, supporting her weight. Her head fell against his chest.

Rickon?

Sandor had only seen the child when he was just a toddler. But there was no mistaking it was him. Another figure walked up behind him. A woman. Wild. A spear in her hands.

Sandor held the sword out again. Other men had come and did the same.

“Rickon!” He heard behind him. It was Maester Luwin. The old man pushed through the others that stood in his way and ran right to the boy. “You’re alive!” He stopped when the wolf barred his teeth. But Rickon ran to him and wrapped his arms around his middle. Luwin held the boy tightly. He looked up at the woman.

“Osha.” She smiled at him and lowered her spear to her side. “Let’s get you both inside.” Maester Luwin turned, his arm around Rickon. His eyes fell on Sansa, limp in Sandor’s arms.

“Sansa?” He looked up at Sandor. “What happened to her?”

“Shock.”

Luwin nodded. “See her back to her room. I will come to check on her shortly.”

He, Rickon, and the woman named Osha walked past Sandor. The wolf followed. As he passed, Sandor kept his eyes on him, his sword still between Sansa and the beast. When they were out of sight, the gate began to close.

Sandor sheathed his sword and bent down to lift Sansa’s legs in his right arm. She was still out. He couldn’t imagine what she would do if she woke up right now, so close to him after what he did to her. He walked her through the snow, into the keep, up the stairs and toward her room.

Shae was in the hall. “What did you do to her!” An image of what happened in the godswood flashed in his head. He pushed it away and pushed past Shae.

“Rickon is back. She passed out.”

Shae’s eyes went wide. “Rickon? Her baby brother?”

Sandor got to her room and kicked the door open. “Yes.” Shae was right behind him.

“But, how?”

He placed her on her bed, as gently as possible. Her eyes were still closed. Her mouth was slightly open. Her lips were red and swollen from how he had kissed her.

“I don’t know.” Shae stood there, looking at nothing. “Help her out of her cloak. It’s wet.”

He walked past Shae and strode out of the room.

He closed the door behind him and walked to his room. He slammed the door behind him, breathed in, and punched the wall. He calmed his breathing, his hands clenched into fists. He sat on his bed and looked at his hand. Bloody knuckles. _No less than I deserve._

There were two images fighting in his head. Her moving underneath him, kissing him, her perfect mouth. And her standing there, looking down at him with tears in her eyes.

With Rickon back, he hoped she would be able to forget it. Forget him. But knowing her, she never would.

_How is she ever going to look at me again?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. Okay we've clearly got some stuff to work out. Luckily, I'm not working today. I just have to go to a wedding later. I'll post another before I leave!


	47. Chapter 47

Sansa

Sansa was getting tired of this. Waking up in a bed, without remembering how she got there. Someone watching over her with concern. She’d passed out again clearly. _But why?_

Her mind went back, trying to remember. And then she saw him in her mind. His Tully blue eyes, once so similar to hers, glowed as wildly as Shaggydog’s in the darkness. His hair fell halfway down his back. It hung in heavy, filthy locks from his head.

Sansa sat up right out of bed. “Rickon!”

Shae was there. “Shh. Relax!” She pushed her back down. Sansa’s head spun. She looked around the room. It was light. The snow had stopped. It was morning.

“How long was I out this time?” Sansa asked.

“Just through the night.”

Sansa nodded. “Where is he? Is he alright?”

“Yes! He’s perfectly healthy, the wild little thing. He’s asleep now, in his old room. That wolf is going to be a problem though.”

Sansa breathed. _Rickon. Alive. My baby brother._

Another thought entered her mind.

“Bran. Why isn’t Bran here?”

Shae shrugged. “No one is completely sure. Rickon isn’t answering any questions about it apparently. Osha says that they split up shortly after leaving Winterfell.”

“Osha?”

“The wildling woman with him. Apparently she’s kept him safe for all of these years.”

“Where was he?”

“I don’t know anything else about it Sansa. I’m sorry.”

“I have to see him.”

Shae nodded. “I’ll get Sandor to bring you to him.”

“No!”

Shae stepped back.

“No.” Sansa composed herself. Shae looked at her, squinting her eyes. “I don’t want to wake Rickon. Can you bring Maester Luwin?”

“Of course.” Shae left to get him.

 _Sandor_. She felt her face grow hot. _Oh gods. That actually happened, didn’t it? We kissed_. Her hand went up to her mouth. Her fingers traced her lips, still feeling his there. She had kissed him first. She wasn’t even thinking. She just kissed him. And then before she knew it, he was kissing her. And it felt good. She didn’t want it to stop. But her mind came back to her. It was Sandor. Sandor Clegane. _The Hound._ And she ran away. _Gods._ Sansa had never felt so embarrassed in her life. _How am I ever going to look him in the eye again_?

And then Rickon was there. No wonder she had passed out. _He must have carried me back._ If one could die from shame and embarrassment, Sansa was sure she was on her death bed.

Soon Maester Luwin came to her. He informed her of everything he knew. When Theon took Winterfell, her brothers, their wolves, Hodor, this woman Osha and Howland Reed’s children disappeared. They hadn’t even told Maester Luwin where they were going. That much she knew. When they left they went North. Their original goal was to make it to Jon at Castle Black. But things changed. The Reeds were convinced that Bran had to be taken North of the Wall. Osha wouldn’t take Rickon there. _He’s dead._ She thought of Bran. _There’s no way he’s survived up there._

“Where were she and Rickon this whole time then?”

Maester Luwin breathed in slowly, and out again. “Skagos.”

Sansa shot out of bed. “Skagos!”

“Yes.”

“And he’s alive!”

Luwin shook his head. “I know.”

Luwin says that Osha was reluctant to tell him why they ended up on Skagos. But they were able to live there for quite some time. Osha had lived to protect him. Shaggydog too. They only heard word recently about Robb’s winning the war. They started making their way back the next day.

Sansa’s mind was spinning.

Bran. North of the Wall. Rickon on Skagos.

She tried picturing her broken little brother on the back of Hodor, trekking through the wilds of

She couldn’t imagine why they went. Osha was reluctant to say apparently. “I suppose we can call of the searches for Rickon.” She swallowed. “And Bran? If he is North of the Wall?”

Luwin nodded his head sadly.

“Could you write a letter to Jon? Maybe he can send out some searches from Castle Black?”

“I’ll let him know right away.” Maester Luwin continued. “It seems Rickon’s time on the wild island didn’t help his behavior.”

“Why? What’s he done?”

Maester Luwin waited. “He bit me.”

“He bit you? My little brother?”

“He did. When I was trying to address a small scrape on his face.”

“Gods, did they turn him into a cannibal?”

Maester Luwin laughed. But she was completely serious. He stopped laughing. “No.”

Sansa shook her head. “He’s- ten now.”

Maester Luwin nodded.

“We are going to have a lot of work with him aren’t we?”

“More than you could imagine, Sansa.”

_Rickon Stark. The Prince of Winterfell. Hair in dreadlocks and biting the Maester._

Sansa shook her head. He’s alive. _He’s alive._

* * *

 

“You’re my sister?”

“I am.”

“I don’t remember you.”

Sansa swallowed. She knew she should have expected him to remember her. He was such a little thing when she left for King’s Landing. She didn’t know what to say to him.

He continued. “You look familiar though.” Her heart panged. He was probably thinking of their mother.

“Do you remember my name?”

Rickon nodded.

For such a young boy, he was bigger than she had expected him to be. He was tall, and slight. But he looked strong. He’d had a bath. He had on the proper clothes. But that horrible hair still remained. His eyes were wide. Constantly. He saw everything. He heard everything. Just like Shaggydog in the corner. The wolf was clearly uncomfortable in the room. He radiated it throughout the room. Sansa thought of suggesting that he stay outside, but thought better of it. She could imagine Rickon’s reaction and didn’t want to be bitten like Maester Luwin. _Lady would never be so threatening to people like this._ Not family anyway.

The wilding woman Osha looked almost as uncomfortable as Shaggydog did.

Sansa looked at her. “I have to thank you. For bringing him home. For keeping him safe for all this time.” Osha just nodded once at her.

“You are very welcome here. In our home. As a guest, not a servant like before.” Sansa said to her.

“Thank you, Princess.”

“Where’s Robb?” Rickon asked.

Sansa looked back at him.

“Robb is on his way home. With mother. To see you.” She smiled. “You remember Robb?”

He shrugged. “Sort of.” He thought about it. “Not really. I remember his name, like yours. Bran. Jon. Arya.”

He said the last name like a question. “Arya. That’s right. Your other sister.”

“And she’s lost too. Like Bran.” He waited. “And father is dead.”

Sansa swallowed. “Yes.” She waited. “Do you remember mother?”

He thought about it for a moment. “I think so.” He turned his head to the side. “You look like her?”

“Yes. That’s right!” He remembered. _Thank the gods he remembered something about her._ She had dreaded thinking of how miserable, how guilty her mother would have felt if he remembered nothing about her.

“So Robb is still a King. And I’m a prince?”

Sansa nodded. Rickon looked beyond her, something behind her.

He pointed. “Who’s that?”

Sansa turned. Sandor was there, in the doorway. He was looking at her. She hadn’t seen him since they kissed. She’d avoided him when she left her room earlier, having Maester Luwin bring her to Rickon. She whipped her head back around to her brother.

Sansa tried to calm herself. She took a breath so her voice wouldn’t shake. “That’s Sandor Clegane.”

“Who is he?”

“He’s my sworn shield.” Sansa’s heart beat against her chest. It felt so strange to say it out loud. It sounded like she was proclaiming he was hers.

“What’s wrong with his face?” Rickon asked.

Osha swatted him on the back of the head. “Mind your tongue, little prince.”

Behind her she heard Sandor step forward. “Run in with one of Queen Daenerys’ dragons. Burnt me to a crisp.”

Rickon’s eyes were wide. Sansa watched in amazement as he began to smile.

“A dragon?” Rickon moved past Sansa. She turned around and watched him walk toward Sandor. Sandor walked further into the room.

“That’s right.” Sandor told him.

“You know, on Skagos, there are unicorns. People used to think that there were no unicorns left, just like the dragons. But there are! Shaggydog used to hunt them sometimes. Right Shaggy?”

At his name, the wolf came padding over to his master.

“This is Shaggydog.” He put his hand on the wolf’s shoulder. “Shaggy, meet Sandor.”

If Sandor was afraid, he certainly didn’t show it. He put his hand out, in a non-threatening way, as if to let Shaggy smell him. He stepped forward, closer to Sandor. Sansa felt her hand reach out toward them, as if to pull Shaggydog back. But the wolf just sniffed his hand. And _licked_ it.

"He likes you!" Rickon shouted. Sandor laughed. Sansa let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.

Seeing Sandor next to a direwolf was very strange. He looked, not small, just average sized, next to the black beast. Sansa shook her head.

“Well, how do you feel about having dinner with me tonight Rickon?”

Rickon looked at her.

“Can Osha come?”

“Of course!”

“And Sandor?”

Sansa blinked. “Yes. Sandor will be there too.”

“Good. Come on, Shaggy.” And the two of them went bounding out of the room. Osha turned and smiled at Sansa before following. Maester Luwin was still in the room, but Sansa made sure to leave first. She would not be left alone with Sandor.

She walked past him, sure to not look at him, and left the room. He followed behind her and she nearly ran all the way to her room. He was still far down the hall when she got to the door. She went in and slammed it behind her.

Later on, Sansa met Rickon in the dining hall. She sat across from him, eager to talk to him and Osha about the past few years.

Rickon looked behind Sansa. “Why isn’t Sandor eating with us?”

Sansa didn’t say anything. She knew Sandor waited there at the wall behind her.

“Sandor, aren’t you hungry? Come eat with us!”

Rickon took the honeyed chicken leg in his hand and pointed it toward the empty space next to Sansa. She heard Sandor sigh, and move next to her. He pulled out the chair and sat down. He moved the chair in toward the table, the legs screeching along the stone floor.

“Have you been in many battles Sandor?”

Sandor bent his head. “I have.”

Rickon’s eyes lit up. “What is it like?”

She could feel Sandor’s reluctance, but he spoke anyway. He would say a few things, and Rickon would have more questions or something else of his own that he wanted to share. Osha chimed in a few times, but the conversation with run by Rickon and Sandor. Sansa did not dare interject.

She tried to ignore the man next to her and focused on watching her brother. _I suppose it could be worse_. When Maester Luwin told her that Rickon had bitten him, she expected to be a complete animal. But, she supposed, he was only half. He bathed, thankfully. He ate with his hands, the chicken leg gripped in his fist. He spoke with his mouth full of food. Grease dripped down his chin and bits of food would come flying out when he got excited about what he was talking about. His bones were going right to Shaggydog, waiting at his feet.

Sansa grabbed the pitcher of wine on the table. She hadn’t drank any wine since that night at the inn. She vowed never to do so again. But tonight, she needed it. She filled her glass, put the pitcher down and took three big gulps. She put her glass down. From the corner of her eye, she knew his head was still forward toward Rickon, but she could feel his eyes on her. By the time they were finished, Sansa thought Rickon and Sandor must have been out of things to speak about, but they weren’t. After her second glass of wine, Sansa was tired.

“Well I think I’ll be going to bed now.” She said as she stood.

“I’ll walk you to your room.” Sandor stood with her.

“No you stay. Talk to Rickon.” She smiled at him, but didn’t look him in the eyes.

Rickon stood himself. “That’s alright. I think I’d like to sleep now too. That was fun!” He said. “Can we eat together every night? All of us?”

Sansa cringed inside. But she wanted her brother to be happy.

“Of course Rickon. Whatever you’d like.”

Sandor walked her to her room. She sped, faster than normal, selfishly hoping that he wouldn’t be able to catch up. But he unlike earlier in the day, he did. He was there when she tried to close herself in her room. His hand stopped her from closing the door.

“Can we-“

“No.” She shook her head.

“You don’t even know what I want to-“

“No.” She couldn’t look at him. She stared at his hand on the door, willing it to move.

“You’re never going to let me talk to you about this.”

It wasn’t a question. She didn’t respond. Finally, he moved his hand. She immediately shut the door in his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. Girl's gotta grow a pair. We'll see what happened toooomorrooww tomorrow! I love ya! TOMORROW!!
> 
> Sorry. Anyway yea. I have to get ready for this wedding now. Sister's best friend. I'll probably be on my phone rifling through comments tonight wishing that I was posting another chapter!!!
> 
> Until tomorrow my friends!!


	48. Chapter 48

Sansa

 _Two more weeks. Just two more weeks and he won’t be my responsibility anymore._ She was at yet another painful dinner with her brother, Osha and Sandor. She felt horribly guilty for getting frustrated with Rickon. He was her baby brother, and she was so completely thrilled that he was home. But he was _impossible_. She knew she shouldn’t have expected him to be able to assimilate into regular life in a castle so quickly. But she never expected him to be so hard to handle. Maester Luwin claims that his behavior had improved from the time he left all those years ago. At least he wasn’t vicious and angry. He was just viciously excited. _All the time._ He and Shaggydog had taken to romping through the castle, around the grounds, laying waste to anything or anyone in their path. Sansa and Luwin tried to have him come to court, just to see what it would be like, but it was a complete disaster. He was restless, just sitting there in a chair. He kept getting up to follow Shaggydog around the room. They both scared all of the people who came around, Rickon with his wild eyes and mess of roped hair and Shaggydog, the beast that he was. Nearly half of the people waiting had left before their time came to speak to Sansa. She and Luwin agreed that she better just continue with the arduous task on her own until Robb returned.

Rickon was still dead set on eating every nightly meal with Sansa, Osha, and Sandor. Sometimes, Maester Luwin would join them. But Sandor was always there. Sitting next to Sansa. She felt guilty that she was drinking again, but Rickon’s behavior and Sandor’s proximity had almost _forced_ her into her cups.

She’d not said a word to Sandor. He stopped trying to talk to her after a few days of complete silence. It was awkward, but she felt that it was better than every addressing what had happened in the godswood with him. She couldn’t look at him. She _wouldn’t_ look at him.

He’d been irritable toward her after a while. _The same as I am toward him_ , she realized. But it made her feel- uncomfortable, watching him laugh with Rickon, joke with Mallory. He ignored her at dinner, just as she did him. Instead of passing dishes or wine toward her, he would put it back in the middle of the table. Once, she had to stand to reach over the table to the wine. It was almost like he was trying to keep it out of her reach, or to make her ask him for something. Make her speak to him. But she wouldn’t.

They were eating chicken again tonight. Rickon found the wishbone in the meat. He ripped off a piece of his sleeve with his teeth. Sansa just watched him with wide eyes, afraid to say anything. After a minute of fiddling with the bone and the fabric, he made a slingshot. He took a piece of chicken and flung it across the room. Shaggydog loped after it and gobbled it up. Rickon slammed his hands on the table and let out a burst of laughter. _This is just too much._ Sansa knew now that it was better to just let him do it. It was easier than fighting with him. From the corner of her eye, she saw Sandor smirking. She knew how Rickon looked up to him. Seeing him encouraging this behavior would not help anything. Sansa gritted her teeth and went to pour herself a third cup of wine. Rickon was moving on to carrots now, aiming to Shaggy’s mouth. Rickon roared with laughter whenever Shaggy caught one. Sansa brought her cup to her lips and closed her eyes. _Two more weeks. Just two more weeks._ She took one, very long sip. Suddenly, the room was quiet. Sansa opened her eyes over the glass, and watched a carrot as it soared across the table and hit her right between the eyes. She dropped her cup. Wine went all down her chin, her neck, the front of her dress before the cup landed in her lap.

“Rickon!”

Rickon looked at her from across the table, his mouth wide, wishbone slingshot in his hand. Sansa pushed out her chair and stood, looking down at her ruined dress. Rickon started laughing, harder than ever. He dropped his wishbone and pointed at her. And then Sandor started laughing. The only time she had heard him laugh like that was in the godswood, in the snow. Sansa looked at Osha. She was even chuckling under her breath, trying to hide it and failing. Rickon doubled over in his chair. Sansa’s face must have been as red as the wine. She had the cup in her hand. She wanted to throw it at one of them. Sandor or Rickon. She couldn’t decide who deserved it more. She threw it on the ground with as much force as she could muster and she stormed out of the room.

“Sansa!” Rickon yelled between his laughing. “Don’t be so sore!”

Their laughter echoed and followed her through the halls to her room.

Sansa slammed the door and started to rip at the laces of her dress. She pulled and pulled, until it almost felt like her shoulder was going to pop out again. She loosened it all the way until the dress fell to the floor and she stepped out of it. She stomped over to her wardrobe to get a nightshift. She saw it as soon as she opened the door. The edge of the white cloak peeking out from under the rest of her things. She remembered him laughing at her. She bent down, grabbed the cloak and dragged it out and turned around. There was a fire in the hearth. She crumbled the cloak up in a ball and walked over to the hearth. She was breathing heavy, in and out, standing over the fire, his white cloak in her hand, the sound of his laughter in her head. But then the memory changed. He wasn’t laughing at her anymore. He was laughing with her, in the snow, breathless as she had been. She remembered the smile that lit up his whole face.

Sansa dropped the cloak and collapsed to the ground on top of it.

She hadn’t let herself think about that day yet.

She tried to focus all of her attention on Rickon for the past two weeks. She told herself that he was the most important thing right now. That she shouldn’t think about anything else. But just _thinking_ about dealing with Rickon was exhausting.

Sansa still couldn’t explain why she kissed Sandor. She didn’t think about it when it happened. She just looked at him lying there in the snow and she knew she wanted to kiss him. Wanted him to kiss her. She went back to how she felt, with him over her, staring at her after he broke away from her mouth. The look of shock in his eyes, the way he pulled his hand away from her. It almost looked like disgust. _Was he disgusted with me? Or with himself?_ She shook her head. _Maybe you would know if you let him talk to you about it, stupid._ And then she _cried_. She felt like such a fool. To kiss Sandor and then cry about it in front of him. _Why had I cried?_ Was it the way he pulled away? The way he looked at her? The confusion? The shock of it all? Sansa closed her eyes. _It was all of it._ She decided. _Everything._

* * *

In the morning, she met with Maester Luwin.

“I think I have an idea. Something to tire Rickon out.” Luwin suggested.

“Oh please, anything.”

“Its been quite some time since Ser Rodrick has had anyone to train.”

Sansa nodded so hard it felt like her head was about to pop off. “Yes. Oh please yes.”

Maester Luwin chuckled at her. “I’ll go ask Rickon right away.”

The next day, Sansa went to the practice yard to watch Rickon train. Sandor stood to watch with her. Shaggydog stood near her. Once Rickon had gotten comfortable with life in the castle, Shaggy had too. She still dared not touch him. But at least she could stand near him without feeling threatened. She thought it might be Sandor’s proximity too. The beast had taken to Sandor like a young puppy, rather than the fierce direwolf that he was.

Rickon didn’t want to learn to fight in the Westerosi way with a longsword and armor. He made it clear that he could do enough with daggers or a spear, in the way that Osha had showed him. Sansa and Maester Luwin convinced him to try, claiming that Robb might have need of him and his sword someday. Making him think of Robb made him cave. But seeing him here holding a tourney sword with Ser Rodrick made Sansa nervous. She could feel the uneasiness coming off of Shaggydog in waves.

She watched, with baited breath as Ser Rodrick tried to explain some things to Rickon. He didn’t look like he was paying any attention to what he said. He looked ridiculous, in that practice armor, his roped hair halfway down his back.

“Alright, Rickon. Come at me. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Rickon held his tourney sword in his right hand, raised high over his head. He ran at Ser Rodrick and shouted while doing so. Rodrick met his sword with ease, they clashed, and Rickon went flying back into the dirt.

Shaggy bounded right over to him. Rodrick reached his hand out to help Rickon up. But Shaggy got there first. He put a paw on Rickon’s chest and snapped at Rodrick’s outstretched hand. He backed away just in time, but Shaggy growled at him. He looked like he was about to attack.

“Rickon!” Sansa yelled. “Stop him!”

Rickon sat up and grabbed Shaggy by the scruff of the neck. “Come on, Shaggy. I’m alright.” The wolf didn’t change.

“Maybe we should put Shaggy away while you practice, Rickon.” She suggested.

Both he and Shaggy turned on her. “No!” Rickon stood up, he pushed Shaggy. “Go back by Sandor, now.”

Shaggydog reluctantly loped over to Sandor’s side. Sandor put his hand on shoulder.

Ser Rodrick gave Sansa a look. She just closed her eyes and shook her head.

“Let’s give that another try.” He rolled his shoulders back and held his sword. Rickon ran at him again. And again Rodrick knocked him into the dirt. Sansa gasped and her hand flew to her mouth. Shaggy ran at Rodrick, but Rickon got up fast enough and stood in his way.

“No, Shaggy!”

“Rickon.” Ser Rodrick said. “This is not working. You need to put him away.”

“No! I wont!” He sounded like a baby, whining like that.

“Well how do you expect to get any practice done then?”

Rickon shrugged. “I just don’t think he likes you, Ser Rodrick.”

Rodrick looked at Sansa. “I don’t know what to do.”

 _This is absolutely hopeless_. Sansa thought.

Rickon looked thoughtful for a minute. He looked at Shaggydog, then he looked at Sandor.

“What if Sandor trains me?” Sansa looked at Sandor. His eyes were wide. “Shaggy likes him. He wouldn’t think that he was trying to hurt me, right Shaggy?” The wolf’s tongue slid out of his mouth as he panted.

Rodrick shook his head. “He can’t Rickon. He’s your sister’s sworn shield. His place is by her side, not by yours in the training yard.”

Sansa shouted before she could stop herself. “I’m safe as I’ll ever be here. Sandor can help you for a few hours a day.” She looked at him. “As long as he wants to, of course.”

Sandor looked at her. It was the first time they looked each other in the eye in a long time. His jaw was taught. He gritted his teeth.

“Sandor would you really?” Rickon shouted excitedly.

Sandor turned back to him. “Of course.”

Sansa sighed in relief. _Thank the gods._ It was the answer she had been waiting for. In one fell swoop, she found a way to tire out Rickon and be free of Sandor, even if it was only for a few hours a day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh what a jerk!!!! Man this one took me so long. I just want to write the fun parts again!!! Soon though. I promise.
> 
> Ok so the wedding was actually fun. The dj was losing his voice. It kept cracking in and out and it was the funniest thing I've ever heard. I'm a horrible person. But I couldn't help myself.
> 
> Anyway, my friends surprised me. They bought my poor ass a ticket to see Fall Out Boy tonight!! WEEEEEEE!!!!! So this scrap is all you're getting today hahhaa I'm sorry.
> 
> Tomorrow, I'll get another chapter out early in the day. Gotta spend the rest of the day with the regular group, prepping for the disaster that will be the GOT finale. And by prepping, I mean drinking.
> 
> I have to say, I don't think you'd like anything I posted under the influence. It would be all like, "And then and then and then Sandor goes, hey Sansa, why you such a bitch!" I doubt you guys would appreciate that. 
> 
> Anyhoo... What do ya think!!!??


	49. Chapter 49

Sansa

Sansa felt like she could breathe for the first time in a very long time. Sandor spent the afternoons in the yard with Rickon and it was lovely. At their dinners, Rickon wasn’t so unruly. He was worn out from practicing, _thank the gods._ He still ate like a heathen, but at least he wasn’t throwing his food anymore. Dinners were still horribly uncomfortable sitting next to Sandor. But her afternoons alone made up for it. She felt that she could be herself, seeing to her tasks and duties without having him breathing down her neck, silently judging her.

Only one thing about this new arrangement wasn’t ideal. Mallory. She and Sandor still exchanged those looks, and she touched him whenever she had the chance. Apparently, she had taken to watching Sandor train Rickon. And she didn’t let anyone forget it. She was constantly bringing him up in conversation around Sansa. Usually to Anna, who Sansa could tell was extremely uncomfortable with Mallory’s talk. One day, Anna was lacing Sansa into her dress, Mallory was stripping the bed of its covers.

“Have you seen him, Anna? In the yard with the little prince?” Mallory said. Anna was silent as she started pulling the laces more roughly. Sansa had to hold on to the bed post. “Moving the way he does with that sword. Makes me wonder how he would move in the bedroom.”

Sansa’s eyes went wide, but she kept her mouth shut. _Where did this girl come from? Why does she think it is acceptable to say these things?_

“Mallory.” Anna said through gritted behind Sansa.

“What?” She laughed. “I know he’s ugly, but that doesn’t really matter in the dark, does it?”

Sansa never wanted to slap anyone as hard as she wanted to slap Mallory in that moment. _Ugly?_

Sansa couldn’t believe that she had the nerve to say such things in front of her. It was wildly inappropriate, him being her sworn shield. But Sansa didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to cause tension. Sansa wanted Shae to pick up on it and explain to Mallory that she was being improper, but Mallory only happened to say these things when Shae was out of the room. Sansa felt stupid going out of her way to tell Shae herself. Shae might think more into it than was necessary. And that is the last thing Sansa needed.

That night, Sansa couldn’t get Mallory’s words out of her head. They were repeating in her ears so loudly, that she could have sworn Sandor could hear them, sitting next to her. Rickon was apparently excited about something he did well in training that afternoon.

Sandor sat to her left as he always did. _Ugly._ She couldn’t remember the last time she looked at him, thinking of him as ugly. _Years ago_ , she supposed. Before she really knew him.

She never imagined what he would look like, without the scars. She tried, now, looking at the right side of his face. She thought of it, copied and flipped around, to the other side of his face. It didn’t look like him. It just looked _wrong_. At the thought, he turned his head toward her and looked her right in the eye. For a second, she didn’t move.

“Sansa?” Rickon said.

She whipped her head around toward her brother.

“Sorry?” She hadn’t even realized he’d been talking to her.

Rickon squinted at her. His eyes flashed toward Sandor, who Sansa saw was still looking at her from the corner of her eye. Rickon looked back at her.

“I said, would you want to come see me in the yard tomorrow? I want to show you how good I got. I think Robb would be impressed.”

“Of course, Rickon. I’d love to see.”

Sandor walked her to her room, as he always did. They were silent, again. But for the first time in a while, she felt the urge to speak to him. To say something. _To apologize for acting like a fool_. But she was too nervous. Too embarrassed. She heard him sigh next to her and wondered what he was thinking.

She got to her door. Usually, she would open it right away and run inside. But she waited. She turned to him. Her eyes were at his chest. She took a breath. Slowly, she lifted her chin up, to look him in the eye.

And for the first time in almost a month, she spoke to him.

“Goodnight, Sandor.”

He didn’t say anything. He just stared at her, with those steel eyes of his.

Sansa felt a lump in her throat. Her stomach turned. She ran inside and slammed the door behind her. She put her hands on her stomach. She felt like she was going to be sick. Even though the pounding of her heart in her ears was telling her otherwise, she tried to calm her breathing. She took several deep breaths, and the sick feeling went away. The lump still sat in her throat.

 _What was that?_ Sansa shook her head. _I’m losing my mind._

She got into bed, but found no rest. She couldn’t even close her eyes. She laid there in bed, staring at the ceiling, knowing that sleep wouldn’t come. She couldn’t stop thinking about Sandor. She thought about kissing him, in the godswood. She felt her body warm at the memory. She started breathing heavy. She closed her eyes, imagining it again. And then she was out of bed. She threw on her robe and padded across the room. She grabbed a candle on her way. She opened the door, quietly, and shut it behind her.

She had the lump in her throat again. She didn’t know what she was going to say to him. She just figured she would start with an apology and work from there. If she thought too much about it, then she would lose her nerve. She walked down the hall trying to calm her breathing. She went to turn the corner, but she heard footsteps. She waited at the corner, and slowly peeked her head around.

Sansa’s heart sunk to the bottom of her stomach. Mallory. She was walking into his room. A gust of breath left Sansa’s lips. Mallory closed the door behind her. Sansa almost dropped the candle as she turned and ran back to her room.

The next morning, Anna and Shae were out of the room. Sansa was alone with Mallory. Mallory was helping her in the bath, and she was wearing the biggest smile on her face that she had ever seen. Sansa sunk down into the water. For the first time, Sansa truly felt like she wanted to drown in there.

At least Mallory had the sense not to talk about it with just Sansa in the room. Every once in a while, she would let out a small laugh under her breath, or a sigh. She pictured her kissing him. On the mouth that she had kissed. _She could only bear to be with him in the dark. She thinks he’s ugly._ Sansa repressed the urge to grab her pretty little head hold it under the water.

Instead, she settled for her attempt at an insult. “Mallory. I can see down the front of your dress.”

“Oh!” Mallory just laughed and shrugged her shoulders.

Mallory helped her out of the bath and helped her dry. Sansa walked over to the dressing table and reached for her robe. There was a knock at the door. Two short, hard knocks. _Sandor._ She looked at Mallory, her hands were full. “One moment!” She called.

Sansa slipped the robe over her arms behind her. Her back was to the door. She took a breath. “Come in.”

She heard the door open and waited, the collar of the robe, at the small of her back. She heard three footsteps, and then he stopped. She slipped the robe up and over her shoulders, before peeking over her left shoulder.

She half expected him to apologize and turn away back out the door. But he didn’t. He stood there, staring at her, his eyes wide, his lips slightly parted. She turned her head away from him. She bit her lip to hide the smirk that threatened her cool countenance. She tied the front of her robe together, a little loosely. She typically wore it tight, trying to cover as much skin on her neck and chest as possible, but she didn’t care at this moment.

She turned around. Mallory looked up from what she was doing. She looked at Sansa. Her eyes widened. She looked at Sandor, who still hadn’t moved.

“Was there something you wanted, Sandor?” Sansa asked him. She pulled her wet hair out from under the fabric and brought it over her shoulder.

He blinked. Looked up. Looked at her in the eye.

“Rickon is waiting for you in the yard.”

Shae came in the door behind him and immediately joined the other two, who were gaping at her like she was a crazy person.

“Very well.” She said. “I’ll be out in just a moment.”

Sandor nodded once, blinked again, and backed out of the door, before closing it.

For a moment, Sansa was immensely proud of herself. Mallory’s forehead wrinkled, her eyebrows pushed together. Sansa couldn’t help the smile that lit up her face. That was until she saw Shae. If there ever was a way to convey disappointment with a look, Shae was an expert at it.

 _Oh gods._ Sansa slowly realized. _I truly am mad._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehehehehhehee
> 
> I hope this enough to hold out until tomorrow!! 
> 
> Fall Out Boy was lovely last night if anyone cares to know. Even though their music has changed over the last twelve years, they certainly haven't and I love them all the same. *sighs*
> 
> Anyway. I made Sansa's Lemon Cakes for tonight's catastrophic episode. I wish I could share them with you all! They're sooo good!
> 
> I will be on my phone responding to comments as often as I can until tomorrow! So let me know what you think!!!!


	50. Chapter 50

Sandor

_The women have all gone mad._

_Three weeks. Three weeks without a word and then this_? Sandor had never been more confused in all his life. The last few weeks have been a complete mess.

Sandor still couldn’t believe he was being permitted to sit, eat and drink with the Prince and Princess of Winterfell. It clearly made Sansa angry and he couldn’t help but find joy in that. If Sansa thought she was the only one who could get to act like a child, then she was sorely wrong. Sandor had taken to letting her open doors on her own, not passing her the plates food at dinner and placing the wine out of her reach. He noticed she started to drink a lot again, at dinner. He figured it was because of Rickon’s behavior. He got on with Osha well enough, but it was Rickon who was the center of attention. Sandor thought it was funny. But if that is how angry and upset Sansa got, he couldn’t imagine what Lady Catelyn would think of it. When she had spilled the wine all over herself, he couldn’t help it. He laughed right along with Rickon. She looked so embarrassed, so angry. But it was no less than she deserved.

He knew he was paying for it when she so eagerly offered him up to Rickon like that. In truth, he didn’t really mind. He liked the little beast. But she had been so quick to do it. And she looked so proud of herself. Like she finally found a way to get rid of him. Part of him wanted to walk right up to her, grab her and kiss that smug look right off of her face.

As much as he resented her for that, he enjoyed training Rickon more than he thought he would. He never trained anyone before. And it had been so long since he had to use his sword. But he and Rickon fell into a comfortable routine. For some reason, it was okay with Shaggydog whenever Sandor knocked Rickon into the dirt. And it happened often. Rickon was quick in his slightness. He was stronger than Sandor expected him to be, but he couldn’t fight in the same way that Sandor did. Sandor used his size and strength to his advantage. It took Sandor some time, but he figured out a way to teach Rickon to use his body type to his advantage. He was truly getting good, faster than Sandor had expected.

It made him happy to see Rickon so excited about it at dinner with Osha and Sansa. He was telling Sansa all about how he caught Sandor by surprise that day.

“I had the sword right under his arm, right where there is a break in the armor, and he didn’t notice until it was too late!” He laughed. “Will you come tomorrow? To see me?”

Sandor watched Rickon’s face turn from excited and happy, to scrunched up and confused. He turned to what Rickon was looking at. Sansa. Her head was turned directly toward him. She was staring at him. Her eyes were soft, before they quickly widened as she turned her head back toward Rickon.

“Sorry?” She blinked. He watched her neck as the blush slowly seeped in to color it.

Rickon didn’t say anything for a moment. Sandor couldn’t take his eyes off of her. _Why was she looking at me?_

On the way back to her room, in silence as was usual now, he felt that there was something hanging in the air between them. He wanted to say something. But he didn’t know what he would say. He just sighed.

At the door, she turned. Slowly, she looked up at him. Her eyes were on his. For three weeks, he hadn’t looked her in the eyes. She would look at his forehead or past him, or through him, never looking him in the eyes. He could have sworn his heart stopped when she spoke.

“Goodnight, Sandor.”

Sandor almost wanted to look behind him. _Is she actually speaking to me? After this long of a time ignoring me?_ He just stared at her. He didn’t know what to do.

Before he could respond she ran inside and slammed the door. In his face. _Again._

What was _that_? Staring at him at dinner, looking at him now, and actually speaking to him. Then she ran away again. Sandor didn’t know what to think. He just walked to his room and tried to sleep.

He was dreaming when she came to him. A good dream, of a perfect memory. As perfect as it was before it all blew up in his face. The sound of the door creaking open woke him up. In his clouded, half-asleep mind, he thought it was her. His dream coming to life. He heard a bump, a chair scrape against the floor and then, “Oh fucking buggering hells!” _Definitely not Sansa_. In the dying light from the embers in the hearth he saw her.

“Mal?”

“Sandor!”

She was standing on one foot, holding the other in her hands. Sandor slipped from the bed and pulled on his breeches that he luckily left on the floor. He walked over to her as she began to lose her balance. He grabbed onto her shoulders to steady her. She laughed in his face. The smell of ale coming from her mouth was almost overwhelming.

She stood on both of her feet and continued to laugh. She was always laughing.

“What are you doing here?” He asked her, shaking her shoulders a little.

She blinked and coughed. “You really don’t know do you?” She laughed again. Sandor tilted his head away from her. He had seen the way she looked at him. Somehow, she always managed to have a hand on him, even in passing. But never did he think that a pretty girl like _her_ would be showing up in the middle of the night to see _him_. She continued. “You were taking too long for my taste, so I had to do something about it.” She stepped closer to him. “So here I am.”

Before he knew what was happening she was on her toes, her arms were around his neck, and she was kissing him. At first he didn’t move, but she forced her tongue in his mouth and he reacted. He didn’t know what to think. He kissed her back. Her mouth was small, wet, careless. The taste of stale ale was in his mouth as if he had drank it all himself. She pushed him back, toward the bed, her hands on his chest. He walked with her, still kissing her. No one had ever come to him like this, to kiss him, to be with him. There was a time in his life that he wouldn’t think twice. That he would be completely happy to pick this girl up and throw her on the bed. But he found himself cringing, as he slowed.

His mind went back to the day in the godswood, how completely different that was to what he was experiencing now. _Sansa._ Her perfect mouth on his, under his. Her eyes, staring straight through him. _Seven fucking hells. She’s ruined me._

Mallory gave one last push toward the bed. He gripped her by the shoulders, tightly, and pulled away from her.

“No.”

She pushed against his hands on her shoulders to reach up to him again, but she couldn’t move him.

She huffed. Her eyes closed, and opened them even more slowly. And then she passed out. He caught her around the middle so she wouldn’t fall. He looked at her face. She was out cold for the night. Completely hopeless. He sighed. He picked her up and headed toward the door, but he realized he didn’t know where her room was. He thought about leaving her out in the hall, but shook the thought away. He turned toward the bed, and groaned. He put her on the bed, not bothering to put her under the furs. He looked at her. Her dress was falling off her shoulder, her hair was a mess. He ripped the fur out from underneath her and tossed it on the floor. One thing was for sure, he would never forget to lock his door again.

When he woke up in the morning, his back was sore from sleeping on the ground, and he was in a terrible mood. He got up and saw her there, still asleep, her mouth wide open, one of her eyes, only half closed. He shook his head. _She better get up before anyone notices her gone._ But he couldn’t care anymore. He got dressed and left her there.

On his way down to the kitchens, he ran into Rickon. Rather, Rickon _ran into_ him. Shaggydog nudged Sandor’s hand when he saw him. The boy was actually jumping off the ground when he spoke.

“I was just coming to get you! Can we practice earlier today? I can’t wait to show Sansa!”

Sandor smiled. “I think that would be fine. After I eat, I’ll go see if she’s ready.”

Rickon leapt away from him. “I’ll be in the yard!” He bounded down the hall, Shaggy right behind him.

Sandor took his time eating his food. Rickon would keep himself busy wrestling with Shaggy until he got there. Besides, he was in no way eager to be greeted by Mal at Sansa’s door.

He got there and knocked. There was no answer for a moment.

“Come in.” He heard. It sounded like Sansa.

He stepped in the room. Immediately, he thought it must have been a mistake. He could have sworn she told him to come in. But there she stood, naked as her nameday in front of him. He felt the breath come out of him. Her back was to him, but he saw enough. The small of her back, indented just above her hips. The lean muscles in her back moving underneath that pure white skin. Her bare shoulders, covered only in her long, wet hair. It was only for a second, as she pulled her robe up over her shoulders. He knew he should have left, looked down or ducked his head away, apologize. But he didn’t. He just stood there. Staring. He knew then in that moment that the image of her would be burned in his mind forever.

She turned her head over her bad shoulder. He could have sworn there was a small smile on her face. He watched as she tied her robe together in the front. She turned. The robe was tied around her waist, leaving her neck, and the top of her chest bare. The sides of the robe were loose, covering her breasts but open enough to show the skin in between.

She spoke. But he hadn’t heard what she said. He just watched as she pulled her hair out from under the fabric. _Why did I come? Why am I here?_ He searched his mind for the answer. _Rickon._

He looked at her. “Rickon is waiting for you in the yard.”

She _bit her lip_. Sandor swallowed. He felt chills go up his spine.

“Very well.” She said. “I’ll be out in just a moment.”

He bent his head, and forced himself out the door.

_What the fuck is she doing? She said come in! Why would she tell me to come in if she wasn’t dressed?_

Sandor was alone with his thoughts for several minutes, waiting outside the door, until it opened. Mal walked past him with a huff. He didn’t even notice she was inside. He was not in the right state of mind to talk to her. He let her go.

After several more minutes, she came out with Shae. _Shae was in there?_ Sansa had her cloak on, clasped at the neck. He hood was already up, and she kept her eyes down as she walked past him. Sandor shook his head. They were silent again, walking down to the yard.

When they got there, Rickon was ready. Shaggy bounded over to Sansa and stood by her while she watched. Sandor’s mind was elsewhere though. Rickon was hitting him more than he usually would have. But Sandor just couldn’t pay attention. Not after what just happened. Not with her standing there.

Sansa clapped and cheered whenever Rickon did something that deserved her praise. After a while, Rickon was worn out and Sansa looked distracted, so they finished for the day.

Sansa left. He didn’t know how he was going to sit next to her at dinner, thinking of her in the way he saw her this morning.

“What was that?” Rickon hit him with the flat of his blade.

Sandor blinked. “What?”

“You were going easy on me!”

“Was I?”

“Yes! I wanted to show Sansa what I could really do. She knows better than that. She knows that you aren’t that easy to beat.”

Sandor shook his head. He didn’t know what to say, he didn’t even notice.

“Seven hells.” Rickon said. “First her staring at you like that at dinner, now you staring at her over on the side this whole time.” Rickon groaned. “Tomorrow. I want her to come again. To see what I can really do. And you _won’t_ go easy on me like that again.” He threw his sword into the ground and walked away, Shaggy loping after him out of the yard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay or nay?
> 
> (I say yay - obviously)  
> But for now I'm off to class. A new one. Only three hours ha! I hope to get some lovely writing done in that time.
> 
> Sooooo...  
> What do y'all think?


	51. Chapter 51

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ummmm 500 kudos? Is this real life????
> 
> I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH!!!!

Shae

“What _the fuck_ are you doing Sansa?”

“Shae!”

Shae turned her head. “Mallory, please leave.”

Mallory’s eyes were wide as she put down what she was holding and shuffled out of the room.

“Shae I hardly think your language is necessa-“

Shae bounded up to her and pushed her finger into Sansa’s chest, right in the opening of her robe, where her breasts were nearly showing.

“Shae!” Sansa pushed her hand away and backed up. Shae followed her and did it again. “Ow!”

“Oh, you don’t like the way that feels?”

“No!” She swiped her hand away again.

“Do you realize that your entire fucking chest is showing?”

“Shae!”

“Oh please, Sansa, knock it off. What are you doing? Sandor was in the room and here you are standing with your whole naked chest standing out!” Sansa looked down and slowly wrapped the robe tighter around herself. Shae watched as a blush crept up on her cheeks. _Oh. Of course._ “You did it on purpose didn’t you?”

Sansa’s head snapped up. “Of course not!”

Shae poked her again. “Yes you did. I know you did!”

“That’s just ridiculous, Shae!”

“Why would you do that? Why would you want him to see you like that?”

Sansa just shook her head and looked down.

Shae took a deep breath and sighed.

“I just don’t understand your behavior recently. You’ve been so rude to Sandor, so short with Rickon, Anna, Mallory. And now this.”

When she said Mallory, Sansa looked up at her. Her eyes were like ice.

 _What could Mallory have done to make Sansa so angry? She’s a bit of a slut, but why would that make her angry?_ Shae went back in her mind to the last few weeks, trying to remember their interactions. She remembered Sansa rolling her eyes at Mallory, gritting her teeth whenever she was around. _But why?_ She couldn’t remember what Mallory had said. And then it hit her. The way she and Sandor are. She’s always got a hand on him. He’s always smirking at her. _Oh. There it is._ She thought of Sansa, watching Sandor bathing in the stream. Sleeping under his white cloak. Saving his life like that. Now acting out of jealousy. _She really does love him_.

“Mallory. What did she do?”

Sansa sighed, reluctant to answer, but she did. “You haven’t heard the way she talks about him. It’s so obnoxious. Disgusting. And- and she calls him _ugly._ ” She breathed hard, in and out. “And last night, she walked into his room. She stayed the night with him. She stays the night with him and is giggling and sighing right in my ear all morning. I couldn’t stand it anymore.”

She put a hand to her mouth, like she couldn’t believe she was saying these things out loud. Shae certainly couldn’t believe it. _How did she know Mallory went into his room?_

“Sansa. You are upset because your handmaiden may or may not have had sex with your sworn shield.”

“Yes.”

“No. That’s not it.” Sansa tilted her head at her. _It’s more than that._ “You’re upset because Sandor might have had sex with someone.”

“Not just someone. _Her_.”

“Why is that such a problem?”

“You don’t even know. The way she talks about him, like he’s nothing. She calls him ugly and still wants to sleep with him. It makes no sense.”

 _There it is._ “You’re jealous.”

“Jealous? Jealous of what?”

“Mallory.”

Sansa laughed. “Jealous. Jealous of that girl, dressing the way she does, acting so inappropriately, yes of course Shae! That’s it! I’m jealous of her.”

“Not of being like her. Of her with him.”

That struck a chord, Shae could see by the way she reacted.

“So she doesn’t deserve him, is that right?”

Sansa folded her arms. “That’s right.”

“And you think that you do?”

Sansa squinted her eyes at Shae. “What?”

“Well,” Shae started. “I knew you cared for him. Staring at him in the stream, saving his life, sleeping under his cloak.” Sansa’s eyes widened that that. “Yes, I’m the one who took it off you so no one else would see.” Shae left out the part that Sandor knew. She didn’t need that right now. She went on. “I just didn’t know you loved him.”

“I don’t love him!” Shae saw on her face that Sansa had never even thought about it before. _But it’s obvious now._

“Alright. I’ll take your word for it. But you want to be with him?” Sansa made a face like that was the last thing in the world that she wanted. “You just want to fuck him?”

“Shae! No!” _It was way too easy to make this girl blush._

“But you’ve thought about it.” It wasn’t a question.

Sansa’s shoulders slumped. Her hands covered her face. Shae could still see the red of her face between her fingers. “Not on purpose.” She mumbled.

Shae bit her lip to hold in a laugh. She couldn’t laugh at Sansa, not while she was finally talking to her about everything. Shae swallowed back the laugh and took a breath.

“Sansa, did something happen? You’ve been so different. Ever since – ever since Rickon came back.”

Sansa’s hands slid from her face. “Something happened that day didn’t it? What happened?”

Sansa backed up into the bed, and collapsed into it with a sharp release of breath.

“I- I kissed him.”

Shae’s mind went blank. Her jaw was slack.

“You what?”

Sansa’s eyes closed tightly, she turned and slammed her face into a pillow. “I kissed him.” Shae could barely make out the mumble.

“But… why?”

Sansa shook her head into the pillow, before turning to face Shae, her hair covering most of her face.

“We were in the godswood. In the snow. We were having fun, laughing. And- and I just looked at him and wanted to kiss him. So I did.”

Shae was in shock. “And then what?”

She closed her eyes. She was so quiet, Shae had to move close to hear her.

“At first, he just looked shocked. But then he kissed me back.” She opened her eyes, they were sad. “But I just started thinking of how wrong it was. And we stopped. And I, I ran away from him. That’s when Rickon came back. Right after that.” She sighed. “I haven’t spoken to him since.”

Shae didn’t know what to think. She never imagined that anything like that had actually happened. “Well, you have to talk to him about it.”

Sansa moaned and turned her face into the pillow again. “Sansa, if this is just you, exploring your options, trying to know what its like to be with a man, then you should end it now. Your mother and brother will be here soon. You have to speak to him. You have to clear the air, fix this. Because soon, you know your brother is going to have a match for you. A husband. And all of these thoughts of Sandor are going to be a distant memory. You might as well just get past it now.”

Shae knew it was harsh, blunt, but it had to be said.

Sansa sighed. She sat up.

“You’re right. I’m just a stupid little girl who wants to know what it’s like to be kissed before I’m married off. Gods. I’m no better than Mallory.”

“That’s not what I meant. And I wasn’t finished.”

Sansa waited.

“If it is more than that, then you still need to talk to him. Figure out if you do want to be with him. If there is a way. If you talk to your brother, and try to convince him of letting you be together? Maybe you can figure out a way?”

“What?” Sansa shook her head. “Shae. Even if I wanted to be with Sandor,” She said his name quietly, like it was a secret. “Even if I wanted to be with him, which I don’t, it would never be allowed to happen.”

Shae imagined a similar story. A forbidden love. A man who couldn’t go against his father’s orders. Who had to marry a young girl and sneak around with the one he truly loved. _And look how that ended._ Living through it herself, Shae didn’t want Sansa to go through the same experience.

She sighed. “Either way, Sansa, you have to talk to Sandor. It can’t go on, you two being moody, rude like this. And you most certainly can’t ever tease the poor man like that again.” Shae poked her in the chest and Sansa blushed all over again, but she sighed and nodded. Shae helped her dress and fasten her cloak. When they opened the door, Sandor was still there. Sansa didn’t look, she just flew right past him. Shae shook her head. Somehow, she knew that no matter what she said, Sansa wouldn’t talk to Sandor. S _he’s not going to do anything about it. And it’s all going to blow up in her face._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so it's short. I think I'm going to have one or two more longer ones today.
> 
> I had to get a friggen cavity filled at the dentist today. A CAVITIY. I only had one before, when I was twelve.  
> What twenty-three year old has a cavity I ask you!?!?!
> 
> Ugh.  
> Anyway, I have online class tonight so that pretty much means I'll be doing nothing but writing for y'all.  
> More later. It will take a while cause its gonna be long. Just gonna say, I think you guys are going to be happy tonight hahaha


	52. Chapter 52

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I told, you lately, that I love you?
> 
> Oh I have?
> 
> WELL I MEAN IT!

Sansa

Sansa had her last sleepless night in her parent’s room. It would be Robb and Roslin’s now.

She couldn’t wait to see her mother, Robb, Roslin and the twins. It had been so long, so much has changed. _And so much hasn’t._ She still hadn’t spoken to Sandor. Shae had done Sansa the favor of taking over a lot of Mallory’s duties so that she wouldn’t have to see too much of her or be alone with her.

Sansa still couldn’t believe she acted so stupid, that she had told Shae everything she did. It made her feel so pathetic to think these things. To admit them out loud was another level of shame completely. She knew she had to talk to him about it. When she did, she planned on apologizing for her behavior, in the godswood and after. She thought about giving him his cloak back, but she thought she should just have it thrown away. To think about him in such a way was absurd. No good could come from it. She hoped that they would be able to move on easily enough without too much of an issue.

The day before her family was to arrive, Sansa had all of her things moved out of the Lord’s Quarters and into her old bedroom. It was smaller, but still big enough for her. It still had the beautiful four poster bed and pretty trimmings that she had loved as a girl. It had a warm hearth, and a nice view of the godswood. Maybe she would be able to sleep like a child she used to be once she was in there.

Shae was only a few doors away, and Sandor, he was further than Shae, but closer to Sansa’s room than he was before. Sansa imagined running into Mal as she was coming to or from Sandor’s room and she felt sick. She prayed that would never happen.

She was at dinner with everyone again. Rickon was using a knife to cut his food, rather than just his teeth. Sansa was ecstatic. _He’s finally becoming human again. It’s just that hair_. Sansa supposed this would be the last dinner they would have together. _Mother would never let Sandor sit next to me at a table like this._ She could only imagine what she would say, seeing him there now. Slowly, Sansa turned toward him. She supposed she would see less of him, as he would be standing behind her again.

“Sansa?” _Rickon._ She turned her head. _Gods._ She thought she was listening. _What had I missed this time?_ Rickon crinkled his forehead. “Why do you keep looking at Sandor like that?”

Sansa’s heart stopped. She cleared her throat.

“Like what?”

“Like this.” Rickon turned his mouth down. He knit his eyebrows together, widened his eyes and made them look sad and teary. He blinked quickly several times, and sighed. She couldn’t bear to look at Sandor.

 _I do not look like that._ Osha laughed, but Rickon seemed genuinely curious. _Little shit_.

“Rickon. Mother is going to be here tomorrow. You need to cut your hair.”

“No!”

“Yes. You do. It’s filthy and way too long.”

Rickon pushed out his chair and stood. “You can’t make me!”

“I can and I will. And if you try to bite, kick or hit anyone then I’m going to lock Shaggy away and Sandor is going to have to hold you down.” She turned to him. “Isn’t that right Sandor?”

Sandor’s eyes were wide. He looked like he wanted to be nowhere in the room with them, let alone being dragged into the argument.

“He wouldn’t.” Rickon said.

“Oh he would. We already agreed.” Sansa smiled at him.

Sandor let out a breath and turned to Rickon. “Sorry little beast. I have to do as she says.”

Sansa went on. “Yes, well hopefully it won’t come to that.”

Rickon huffed. He picked up his plate and threw it across the room.

“And if that behavior continues, remember, you’ll be answering to the king for it. Or worse. Mother.”

Rickon’s chest was heaving. Sansa picked up her cup and downed the rest of the wine.

“You’ll have it cut in the morning. Next time I see you, you will look like the true Prince of Winterfell.”

She stood and left.

Sansa got to her old room. She went on her own. Sandor didn’t come with her and she didn’t want to know or think about why. She just wanted to sleep. Tomorrow would be a very long and busy day, she truly did need the rest. She got undressed and got into her old bed. Everything was the same. But so much had changed. She used to be able to curl up into a little ball on the bed and fit into a corner of it. It was still a big bed, but she took much more space up on it. The drapings that hung from the bed were washed and cleaned recently. She always felt so safe inside of them. They were white and blue. One color from each of her parent’s houses. Half and half. _Tully and Stark._ _Just like me._ She smiled, remembering.

When they moved her things, Sansa made sure she had put the cloak in the bottom of her trunk.

After finding out that Shae knew about it, Sansa felt like a fool to yearn for it. She could almost feel it there, burning a hole through the bottom of the trunk, willing itself to come out, to be worn.

 _But that’s not it._ It was Sandor himself, she knew. She knew she should have talked to him before now. It would be so much more difficult with everyone else here to do it. She silently cursed herself for not doing it already. It was too late now.

_Or is it?_

Sansa inhaled deeply, working up the nerve. She slipped out of bed and padded over to her wardrobe. She pulled out her robe and slipped it on. Her thoughts flashed back to the last time he saw her in the robe. She felt the sting of heat on her cheeks thinking of it again. _Stupid little fool._ She shook her head and tied it tighter, up close to her neck. She grabbed a candle and

The hall was cold, but she didn’t have to go far. She counted the doors she passed. One, two, Shae, four, Sandor. She stopped at his door.

She was having déjà vu’. Last time she tried to speak to him about it, Mallory had caught her off guard, _and ruined everything_.

She knocked, twice.

 _What am I doing?_ She turned to run away, but heard the door open. She turned back and he was standing there.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t.”

His right hand held the door. He put his left on the stone wall on the other side of the doorway. _Has this doorway always been so small?_ His tunic was open wide at the neck. She could see his collar bone, the hair on his chest. She forced her wide eyes up to his.

“Are- are you alone?”

He squinted his eyes. “Yes.”

“Oh. I mean- of course you are. Silly- silly question.” She cleared her throat. “Is your new room suitable?” _Suitable? What am I saying? Just apologize and move on with it!_

He nodded. His eyes were soft, but confused, searching hers.

She swallowed and took a breath.

“I just- I just wanted to- I wanted to apologize. For my behavior recently. For what happened- for what happened in the

“Don’t.” He gritted his teeth. She heard the wood of the door creak as his hand gripped onto it tighter.

_Don’t? Don’t what?_

She waited, but he didn’t say anything. So she continued. “Well, I apologize. And I want- I hope- what I mean to say is-“ _Oh gods I’m buggering this up aren’t I?_ She took a breath. “I hope, that everything can go back to normal. To the way it was before we got here, I suppose.”

Sandor looked like he wanted to say something. She waited. But he didn’t. His jaw moved from one side to the other. He closed his eyes and put his hand over his face. He sighed and pulled his hand down over his face, until he got to his chin, where he scratched the scruff on his face.

“That’s just fine with me.”

She half expected him to call her little bird. She almost waited for it. But he didn’t say it.

Sansa breathed in and out. “Right, then.” She put a smile on her face. “Thank you.” _Thank you? For what? Making me feel like I never should have come here?_ “Goodnight.” She turned before he could say anything. And walked back to her room.

She closed the door behind her. “Ughhh!” She moaned. That was the most frustrating, embarrassing thing she had ever done. Gods, why did he make that so difficult? She shook her hand and put out her hands to compose herself.

“It’s over.” She told herself. “It’s done. You apologized, now everything can go back to normal.”

As she put her robe away, she tried to think if there ever was a normal for them. She laid down in bed and tried to get to sleep, ignoring the silent call of the cloak in the trunk. After a while, she felt herself begin to fade away into sleep. And she thought of something. _He doesn’t call me little bird anymore. He doesn’t call me_ anything _anymore._

* * *

In the morning, the whole castle was in a frenzy preparing for the king’s arrival. Sansa didn’t even have time to think about last night, not even when Sandor came to the door for her. She said good morning to him, and he said good morning to her. That was all. _At least we are speaking again._ That’s all she could ask for, she supposed.

Sansa went around to the rooms to make sure they were all ready. She didn’t know how her mother would feel about giving her bedroom to her son. But she figured she would be happy just to be home at Winterfell, with two of her sons and one of her daughters. Whenever Sansa thought about Bran and Arya her heart sunk, more than usual now. She felt so stupid, so guilty for thinking of herself like she had been when they were out there, lost in the world. The rest of the morning was spent running around, checking up on everyone and everything, making sure the castle and the grounds were prepared, that everything was on schedule for the night’s feast.

She heard the horn of their arrival at the very moment she stopped to take a break. Suddenly, Sansa was nervous. She hoped she had done everything correctly, made the right decisions. She had Maester Luwin’s counsel, but she was still wary.

She went outside with Sandor. The sun was bright. It cut like a knife through the cold air. Rickon was there waiting for her, his hair trimmed short around his head.

“Thank you Rickon.” She bent down and kissed his head. “Mother will be so happy to see you. Robb too.”

He rolled his eyes. Sansa watched as Sandor reached from behind her to Rickon. He laughed under his breath and mussed Rickon’s short curls with his hand. Rickon tried to bite back a smile, but it slipped out anyway.

They all turned to the South Gate as it opened. Before they opened all the way, Grey Wind came flying through. Shaggydog ran from Rickon to meet his brother. They met with a crash of playful barks and snapping jaws as they wrestled on the ground. Sansa couldn’t help but smile as Rickon laughed. She thought Lady would have liked to do the same. Knights came pouring through after, Robb in their midst, his crown reflecting the light of the sun.

It made Sansa think of when she last stood here, welcoming a king with her family. Only now she was short a father, a brother, a sister and a wolf. Now the Hound stood behind her and the King she welcomed was her brother.

Sansa smiled when she saw Robb, his crown reflecting the light of the sun. Roslin came in behind him, and Catelyn behind her. Sansa could see her mother’s eyes, scanning the line of people. They stopped, next to her on Rickon and they didn’t move. The three of them dismounted. Sansa was sure her mother was going to fall or hurt herself by how swiftly she tried to get down from her horse. She clearly didn’t care about the people who came to see them come home. All she saw was her son, her youngest child that she imagined dead for the better part of his life. She held her skirts and ran to him. From the corner of her eye, Sansa could see Rickon move closer to her side. _Oh please, gods, let him remember her, for my mother’s sake._

Catelyn got to him and immediately enveloped him into a hug. “Rickon!” Sansa could see that Rickon was reluctant, but thankfully, he wrapped his arms around her. She pulled back, tears streaming down her face, and held onto his shoulders. He looked her in the eye and Sansa watched as something changed. The fear, the wariness, slowly turned into recognition, and finally happiness.

“Mother!” Rickon raised his arms and wrapped them around her, so tightly it looked like it might have hurt. Sansa felt a tear fall from her eye. She wiped it away just in time for her mother to release him and to give her a hug as well.

Her mother pulled back and looked her in the eyes, so similar to her own. “I’ve missed you Sansa.”

“I’ve missed you, too.” Sansa said. “You have no idea.”

Robb came to Rickon next. He waited for the same sign of acceptance, and after a moment Rickon gave it to him.

“Robb.” Rickon smiled and opened his arms. The two brothers hugged. Sansa was surprised to see that Rickon was almost as tall as Robb.

Robb came to her next. “Sansa. Thank you, for everything. Has it truly been terrible?”

Sansa sighed. “I suppose not too terrible.” She laughed. “But I am more than eager to give you your seat back.”

Robb laughed quietly with her. Then, he looked behind her and bent his head. “Sandor.”

“Your Grace.” Sansa heard him say. She didn’t turn, she kept her eyes on Robb.

“I’m sure Sansa has been safe in your hands while we’ve been away?” Sandor didn’t say anything. Sansa remembered feeling his hand on the back of her head when they kissed. She pushed the thought away and cleared her throat. “Of course I have been Robb.” She forced a smile on her face.

Robb smiled back before turning to Rickon. “Well, brother, I would like for you to meet the queen. My, wife, Roslin.”

Roslin stood behind Robb. Rickon bowed to her. “Your Grace.” Sansa felt a small piece of pride inside of herself. Yesterday her little beast of a brother was as wild as his hair. It was as if his behaviors and attitudes had been cut away with his hair. Sansa doubted that was the case. He was just nervous, is all.

Roslin waved her hand at him. “Oh don’t call me that. If you do, then I will have to call you My Prince.” At the term, Rickon scrunched up his face. Everyone laughed. Roslin most of all. “Roslin and Rickon it is then.” She told him. He just nodded, and smiled at her.

Roslin looked at Sansa. She opened her arms and Sansa hugged her. “Sister.” Roslin said. Sansa felt the twinge of pain and guilt in her heart like the last time Roslin had called her that. _Arya._

Sansa ignored it and returned the sentiment. “Welcome sister. I’m so glad to finally have you home.” _Arya. These are the words I will say to Arya. When she comes back. And she will come back._

* * *

 

After the king and queen, prince and princess, and Catelyn were all settled, they were all getting ready for the feast Sansa had prepared for them and all of the knights that had accompanied Robb on his journey, and Sansa on hers. The foods in the glass gardens were flourishing, even in the cold. Sansa had yet to go see it for herself, but she knew this was true based on the sheer amount of food that was being prepared in the kitchens.

Sansa kept her eyes on Sandor for most of the night. He was sitting at a table with Osha. The two of them were talking, laughing. Probably about the absurdity that was their dinners over the last month, how glad they probably were to be finished with them. Sansa sat at the head table, she was next to Roslin, who was to the left of Robb. Her mother was on the other side of Robb, Rickon next to her. Sansa was glad to see that he was using both his knife and fork to eat. No slingshots out of wishbones tonight. Shaggydog and Grey Wind both gnawed on bones on the ground. Sansa looked at the people at the table, she thought of little Eddard and Lyanna upstairs sleeping. This is my family, renewed. This is the new normal.

At that thought, Robb picked up his horn of ale and stood. The crowd quieted for their king.

“I just want to take a moment, to thank you all for everything you’ve done. If you are here, you have helped my cause in one way or another, and I will be forever grateful.” All the men cheered, slamming their horns and cups on the tables around the room. “I would also like to that my sister, Princess Sansa. Without whom, Winterfell would have been left without a Stark for another two months two long.” The men cheered for her.

“To the princess!” “Here here!” “Princess Sansa!” Sansa felt her cheeks become hot. She found Sandor. His eyes were on her. Sansa’s heart stopped. She watched as his mouth turned up at the corner. He lifted his horn of ale and bent his head toward her. Sansa breathed in, and whipped her head around to Robb.

Robb continued. “With that being said, we’re going to have a ball, in three weeks time, a great feast, with music, dancing, to celebrate the end of the war, the return of Daenerys Tarygaren, and the birth of Prince Eddard and Princess Lyanna!”

Robb lifted his cup and the whole hall cheered as they did the same. _A ball. Another ball_. Sansa knew what that meant. Even if Robb had other intentions. Lords from all over the North will be sending their sons to come and court Sansa. It would be the perfect opportunity for them. For some reason, Sansa didn’t really mind. She knew she had to get on with her life, now that she didn’t have to run the Kingdom anymore. Unconsciously, her eyes drifted to Sandor in the crowd. _A ball might be nice_ , she thought. _A distraction._ Something to keep her from thinking about the one thing she still couldn’t help thinking about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guuuuyyysssss. 
> 
> I almost didn't have them talk at all, but then I got annoyed with myself and figured you would too.
> 
> AAHHHHHH!!!
> 
> Okay. Alright. I'm calm. (totally not calm)
> 
> Tell me what you think!
> 
> *Ummmm UPDATE!*  
> I'm really sorry but I'm not going to be able to post another tonight. I have much less written than I had wanted. I'm really upset about it and I tried to rush it, but I don't want to ruin it. Its gonna be long and the end of it is gonna be Niiiiiice. So I figure that is more important than rushing it!!!
> 
> IM SORRY! DON'T HATE ME!
> 
> I will post it tomorrow!


	53. Chapter 53

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't get too excited.

“Oh I’m going to love watching you grow!”

Sansa was with Roslin and the babies. She was holding Lyanna up above her head, watching the little baby laugh with her perfect little pink mouth. Her perfect little button nose. Her perfect little dark brown curls.

“I’ll never be sick of looking at you.” She brought her down and covered her in kisses.

“She loves you.” Roslin laughed from where she sat, feeding little Ned. Roslin knew she had a wet nurse to help her, but she said that she preferred to do it herself. “You’re so good with them Sansa. I can’t believe you haven’t been around babies all your life. We all know I have.” She laughed. Sansa loved that Roslin could laugh at herself like that.

“Well, Rickon when he was a baby, but I was just a girl.”

Sansa loved being around the babies. She found that she was spending most her time with them. They were just so happy, so innocent. They were safe in their home, with their loving father and mother. They would grow up in Winterfell surrounded by love from their mother, their father, and especially their aunt. They had never lived in a world where Lannisters existed. That thought alone was enough for Sansa. She wished she had been so lucky.

The ball was in just a few days and Sansa surprised herself by how excited she was. She couldn’t believe how depressed and alone she had been just weeks before. Rickon had helped, but having Robb, Catelyn, Roslin and the babies here made Sansa so _happy_. She couldn’t remember the last time she was truly happy.

The family usually all dined together. There were times when Robb couldn’t attend, but Roslin and he mother were always there. The first day after the feast, they all ate together. Rickon was in a mood because Osha wouldn’t come. She knew it was a time for the family only. _Even though she essentially raised Rickon for most of his life,_ Sansa thought. Rickon came in later than everyone else, but they waited for him. Rickon sat in his usual seat with a huff.

Roslin looked at the table. “Well, everything looks just delicious-“

“Where’s Sandor going to sit?” Rickon interrupted.

“Rickon.” Sansa tried to warn him. Rickon was looking at the table and the chairs around it. The five chairs were filled. He kept his eyes on Roslin, who sat to Sansa’s left, where Sandor usually sat. Sandor was standing at the wall behind Sansa with Brienne.

“But he always eats with us, Sansa.” Rickon said.

Her mother turned to her, her eyes questioning. Sansa cleared her throat. “Rickon had requested that he, Osha, Sandor and I eat dinner together every night. So we had been.” Her mother’s eyes widened, but thankfully, she didn’t say anything. Sansa turned back to Rickon. “We’re just going to have dinner as a family from now on Rickon.”

Rickon squinted his eyes at her, but thankfully, he did not challenge it further. Sansa could almost read his thoughts; that he felt more comfortable with Osha and Sandor than he did with these people he hadn’t seen in so long.

It was at that dinner that Sansa had finally heard all about Daenerys and her dragons.

“It was truly something to behold.” Robb said. “The silver queen flying into the city on the back of her great black dragon. It was like something from one of Old Nan’s stories came to life right before my eyes.”

Sansa sighed. “Oh I wish I had seen it myself.” She looked at her mother. “Is she as beautiful as they say?”

“She truly is.” Her mother said. “But that’s not all. She is kind, determined, strong. Losing the North wasn’t what she wanted, but she is very happy to be back in her home.”

That was all she got to ask about Daenerys. Rickon took over the conversation, asking Robb about the dragons.

“Sandor was burned by one of her dragons! Isn’t that right Sandor?”

From behind her, she heard Sandor clear his throat. “That’s right.”

Sansa couldn’t help it. She laughed. For Rickon to still believe that was absolutely adorable. She was glad he didn’t question it though. Robb smiled, seeing Sansa laugh. But no one else said anything, at least until Rickon came up with another question for Robb.

Sansa found herself missing the sound of Sandor’s voice next to her. His laugh whenever Rickon did or said something ridiculous.

Even with all of this, she rarely spoke to Sandor. It wasn’t that she was avoiding speaking to him. It wasn’t even really very awkward anymore. She just had so much to do, helping plan the ball. She had so many people to see, to talk to, to spend her time with. He was more often than not, in the yard with Rickon. They were never truly alone, only when he would see her to her room at night. All they really said to each other was goodnight.

Sansa had found sleep more easily in her old bed. She would still wake up from some nightmares - or very _vivid_ dreams, ones that she did not let herself think about – but she fell asleep faster than she used to. She hadn’t felt the need for the cloak, even though she still thought about it, there in her trunk.

Mallory had returned to her regulars tasks. She still talked about Sandor every chance she got, that was until Shae had finally heard one of her comments. Once, Shae was in the room when Mallory made a joke about Sandor’s _sword_. She laughed to herself. Anna rolled her eyes. Sansa turned her head to Shae, she lifted her eyebrows, silently pleading with her to say something.

Shae rolled her eyes at her. “Mallory. Do you realize how inappropriate that is? To say something like that in front of the princess?

Mallory’s smile died on her face. A light pink tinge came to her face. Didn’t know it was possible to make the girl blush, Sansa thought.

Mallory looked at Sansa. She bowed her head. “I’m so sorry Princess. Please forgive me. It will never happen again.” She looked up at Sansa with the saddest eyes she had ever seen. Sansa sighed. Of course I have to feel bad for her now. Sansa gritted her teeth and just nodded at her. Even though she stopped talking about him like that from then on, it didn’t stop her from fawning over him when he was around. Sansa would watch closely. She could have sworn that Sandor’s smile at her looked forced. Once, it even looked like he pulled his arm away from her touch. _It’s probably all in my head._

All of the great Northern families started arriving just a few days before the ball. Umbers, Mormonts, Glovers, Karstarks, Manderlys, even Roose Bolton. His bastard son was not invited. They all stayed in the guest house overlooking the godswood for the time being.

There was one guest that she was more excited to see than any other. He came with a few others through the North Gate, his white wolf bounding through the gate before it had opened all the way. She watched with a smile as the three wolf brothers brawled playfully together when they reunited.

Jon. She didn’t know what it was, maybe that she was finally growing up, but she felt so happy to see her brother again. She only thought of him as her brother now, not just her bastard brother. She watched him dismount. A man grown. _He looks so much like father._

“Your Grace.” Jon bowed to his brother.

“Lord Commander.” Robb bent his head right back.

They were serious, only momentarily, before breaking out in laughter and hugging one another.

“Allow me to introduce Samwell Tarly, Eddison Tollett and Val.”

The men Jon had brought with him couldn’t be more different. Samwell Tarly was immense, Eddison Tollett, slight with greying hair. And Val. Sansa had scarcely seen a woman more beautiful before in her life. She was dressed in all white, her honey blonde hair braided back behind her head. _She must be a wildling,_ Sansa realized. Sansa knew about Jon’s problems with the Wildlings. Somehow, while Robb waged his war in the South, Jon had avoided a war with the Wildlings by defeating the king beyond the wall and agreeing to let them pass the wall and settle in the gift. _Whoever this woman is, she must be important._

Jon gave Rickon a huge hug and mussed his hair before turning to Sansa.

He bent his head toward her.

“Princess Sansa.” _Oh. I truly was awful to him when I was younger wasn’t I?_ Sansa was ashamed of herself. _This is my brother._ He’d never been anything less, even though she treated him like it.

“Jon.” He looked up at her and she smiled at him. A smile crept onto his face. She stepped up to him and wrapped her arms around him. He laughed and hugged her back.

“It’s so good to see you, brother.” She said in his ear.

They pulled away from each other and he smiled at her. Sadly, Sansa realized that this might have been the first time that he ever smiled like that at her. _Everything is different now_ , she thought. _He is family._ With two of her siblings still missing, Sansa wouldn’t take that for granted. Not anymore.

* * *

The morning of the ball had finally arrived. Sansa and Catelyn had seen to the great hall to make sure all of the seating arrangements were settled. Sansa found her seat and made sure she was not sitting next to anyone she wouldn’t want to be seated next to. She was put between Rickon and-

“Ser Gawen Glover?”

She turned to her mother. Catelyn sighed and turned to her.

“Yes.”

“The heir to Deepwood Motte?”

“Yes.”

Sansa closed her eyes. She pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers. She knew something like this was going to happen. She had just been avoiding thinking about it. Can’t be anywhere near as bad as Ramsay Bolton.

“How old is he?” She asked.

“He’s twenty.” Catelyn said, smiling. “And very handsome I have heard.”

Sansa sighed. “Great.”

Catelyn had a sad smile on her face. She walked over to Sansa and took her hands in hers. “We’re not going to force him on you Sansa. Just a suggestion. Try to talk to him. Get to know him tonight. You may find him very agreeable.”

Sansa knew it was time to think about getting married. She was already eighteen, widowed and still a maid. She had already tried putting unwelcome thoughts of Sandor behind her. Maybe meeting a handsome new man would help in that.

“I’ll think about it. I will.”

Catelyn smiled brightly. “Thank you, Sansa.”

Anna spend a lot of time on her hair. She wanted it the same way Shae had done it for the ball in King’s Landing. It was completely off of her neck with a thick braid wrapped around her head like a copper crown. Shae helped her into her dress. Sansa had a new dress made for the event. It was similar to the one she wore to the ball at King’s Landing, made of heavy silk. But it was a dark purple color, trimmed with golden embroidery at the sleeves and neckline. It fit her body perfectly, and she truly felt like a woman grown, looking at herself in the mirror. The deep purple made her ivory skin look even lighter, her hair even more red.

Sansa looked at the girls who had helped her, even Mallory.

“I hope to see you all at the ball. I know you can’t be there for dinner, but I would be so happy to see you all there dancing later on.”

Anna and Mallory’s eyes lit up. “Oh really Princess?” Anna said.

Sansa laughed. “Of course! You all deserve a night to yourselves.”

Shae opened the door for her and Sandor was waiting there.

“Good evening.” She said to him with a smile.

He blinked at her. He stared at her, but his eyes looked sad.

“What is it?” She looked down, smoothing her skirt.

He shook his head. “Nothing. You just- you look beautiful.”

Sansa’s eyes opened wide. “Thank you.” She looked down at her hands. _He never told me that before._ She never even imagined that he could pronounce the word.

She saw his arm as he held it out for her. She took it, but kept her head down as they continued down the hall. She wanted to say something to him. She didn’t know what. They remained silent all the way to the great hall. When they were almost there, he slowed their pace. From the corner of her eye, Sansa saw him open his mouth as if to say something, and then close it again. She could see Robb at the end of the hall. Her fingers gripped into his arm. _Say it!_ She screamed in her head. _What are you trying to tell me!_ She wanted to stop him, make him say what he was trying to. But it was too late. Robb saw her and strode down the hall to meet her. She heard Sandor breathe hard out of his nose. Sansa sighed, loudly and let go of his arm when Robb got to them. He held out his arm for his sister and she took it.

“You look beautiful Sansa”

“Thank you Robb.”

She turned her head as they walked. Sandor stayed behind her. But that was probably as close as we would get for the rest of the night. Sansa would be entertaining Gawen Glover, talking to him, dancing with him and probably many others. Whatever Sandor wanted to say, he lost his chance.

The guests started to arrive as the snow started to fall outside. They all walked the short distance from the guest house across the way. Everyone had snowflakes in their hair and smiles on their faces. Robb and Roslin greeted everyone as they came in. Then Catelyn, Rickon and Sansa. Jon was one of the first to arrive, with Ghost by his side.

Soon, the hall began to fill with new and familiar faces of the North. Their voices echoed throughout the hall. Sansa loved hearing the noise. She has been so lonely at Winterfell, but this is how it was supposed to be. Filled with people, laughter and happiness.

Sansa looked at every one of the man’s faces as they came in. She knew Ser Gawen was young, so she didn’t have to look twice at the older men. Ser Darol came in. They avoided each other’s eyes as they said an awkward hello. One younger immensely fat man had made her nervous for a moment. She had a quick image of lying underneath him in their marriage bed and cringed. But thankfully, he was just another Manderly.

In the diminishing line of people, Sansa found one handsome man. He had light brown hair, cut short. He had a thick, but short beard that complemented his features. His eyes looked to be a very dark blue from where she stood. _Oh please be him. Please be him._

The man seemed to be looking along the line of greeters, searching for something. His eyes suddenly fell on her and he smiled. Sansa looked down and bit her lip to hold back a smile. _It must be him._

When the man in front of him got to her and introduced himself as Robett Glover, Sansa breathed a sigh of relief. He turned to the man behind him. “And this is my son. Ser Gawen.”

Sansa curtsied to both of the men. _Maybe this won’t be so difficult after all._

“I believe we will be sitting next to one another tonight, Ser Gawen.”

Sansa could see a dimple in his cheek as he smiled at her. “I heard that as well Princess Sansa.”

 _He really is very handsome. He has a pleasant voice._ She couldn’t help the smile that came to her mouth. “I will see you in there, then.”

He bowed his head to her and entered the hall.

“I want to sit with Sandor.” Rickon whined at dinner. His elbow was on the table and he was holding his head up with his hand. He was using his fork to push his food around. At least he is using his fork at all. Sansa could feel Shaggy’s tail wagged under the table and hit against Sansa’s feet. Sansa saw Rickon slowly sneak down pieces of meat to Shaggy instead of eating it himself.

Sansa’s cup was filled with wine. She looked at it. I can’t get like I did last time. The time when she thought she had danced with Sandor and she had woken up sick in the morning. The next time she had gotten that drunk, she ended up outside with Darol against a tree. Sansa took a small sip and turned her attention to the man to her right.

“Ser Gawen.” He turned to her. “How are you enjoying your time at Winterfell?”

“I’m enjoying it. Very much. I can’t believe I’ve never been here before and I live so close.”

“What is your favorite part?”

He thought about it for a minute. “I think it would have to be the godswood. It’s beautiful. So peaceful.” Sansa felt her eyes drift behind him while he spoke. She saw Sandor. He was staring at her. His eyes were as sharp as steel. It had been so long since she had seen his eyes so harsh. She blinked and looked away, back to Gawen. “The godswood at Deepwood is much smaller too.”

She cleared her throat. “Do you go to the sea often? Living so close to it?”

“I go often yes, but not as often as you might think. I prefer the quiet deep in the trees. Plus, you can never predict when the iron born might come raving down the shore.”

Sansa laughed. He had a very handsome smile, but he was obnoxious about it. _Not like Darol._ He was funny, but he didn’t tell joke after joke, like Darol tended to do. Conversation with his was simple, easy.

“I was hoping that you might like to share the first dance with me this evening.” He said to her when they finished eating. She happily accepted, pushing back the thought of Sandor in her mind while she finished her cup of wine.

Robb and Roslin started out the dancing for everyone, and soon couples joined the floor, Sansa and Gawen among them.

While they danced, she saw Sandor again. He stood against the wall. He still stared into her. Gawen turned her away, and she could still feel his eyes on her back. She tried to ignore the feeling. She tried to listen to Gawen as he spoke about Deepwood, but she missed half of what he had said.

They sat down when the song ended. Sansa found a lemon cake on her plate and her wine glass full. She sipped on her wine, more deeply now. She was warm, and happy, talking to Gawen. She gobbled up her lemon cake easily enough while they talked. He asked her a lot of questions about her life. He managed to avoid questions that made Sansa think of anything that she didn’t want to think about, which was difficult when it came to her life. She spoke a lot about Rickon and even more about little Eddard and Lyanna. She felt her face light up when she spoke about the babies. She thought he might be bored, listening to her talk about something so uninteresting, but his eyes were alight watching her speak.

When she finished her lemon cake, he noticed. He looked at his, untouched on his plate and pushed it toward her.

“Would you like mine? I don’t care for lemons.

“You- you _don’t care_ for lemons? How do you- how could you not like lemons?”

He laughed. “I’m serious!” She laughed with him sipping her wine.

He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. I suppose it’s because we don’t have many of them at Deepwood. We don’t have the glass gardens like you do here.”

“Well then,” She reached over him and slid his plate further in front of her. “I’ll be happy to take advantage of your sad, lemon-less life.”

Once half the hall was drunk, the food and tables had been pushed away. The music got louder and the floor was crowded with dancers. Sansa saw Shae, Anna and Mallory creep in. They all looked beautiful in their finest dresses. Sansa ran over to them. She was so happy to see them and told them so. Mallory’s dress wasn’t even that low cut. She and Anna ran off to get a drink for themselves.

Shae grabbed Sansa’s hand. “How is everything going?” Sansa had told her about being nervous to be seated next to Ser Gawen. Sansa peeked over her shoulder, where she saw Gawen speaking to a Karstark. She turned back to Shae. “He’s very nice. Handsome. We’re getting along well enough.”

“He’s staring at you.” Shae smirked. “I think he’s half in love with you already.”

Sansa smiled, and laughed nervously. She swiped her hand at Shae as if to pass it off as nothing. But the thought stuck with Sansa. She thought back to that morning, when she had been dreading sitting next to anyone she didn’t know. Maybe it was the wine, but Sansa felt that if she had to be married, it might not be so bad if it were him.

Sansa grabbed Shae’s arm and pulled her out on the dance floor. “Come on!”

Shae resisted, but Sansa won her over. The music was upbeat and fast paced. Soon she and Shae were sweating and laughing, spinning one another around in circles. When the music stopped Sansa clapped along with everyone else, until she realized they were clapping for her and Shae. Shae became completely red, but Sansa just laughed and curtsied.

She looked up and the first face in the crowd that she saw was Sandor. His eyes were soft now. A crooked smile on his face. Another song started, signaling another dance.

Sansa smiled at Sandor. She tilted her head as she looked at him. “Dance with me.” She mouthed to him. She watched him as he watched her moved. She saw him laugh. She imagined the sound in her head. He looked at her and slowly shook his head. Sansa sighed. She rolled her eyes and turned. Ser Gawen was there. He swept her up and spun her around, dancing with her again. As they danced, she saw Sandor again. Still staring at her. Any sign of that smile he just had was gone. Her gut told her to look away from him, but she didn’t. She stared right back, unflinching. _He can’t scare me. If I am going to be happy and have fun, I don’t need anyone making me feel bad about it._ Her thoughts were interrupted by what she saw on the dance floor. Mallory. Dancing with Ser Darol. Sansa choked out a laugh before she could help it.

“Are you alright?” Ser Gawen’s face was full of concern.

Sansa hit her chest. “Yes. I’m fine.” A giggle escaped her lips, but she bit it back. _Oh they are just perfect for each other aren’t they?_

After a few dances, Sansa’s feet were swollen and aching. She needed a break. She found her cup of wine and had it refilled. She sipped it as she walked around the room, avoiding the eyes of anyone she did not want to dance with, until she found who she was looking for.

He sat at a table with his friends. His back was to her, a horn of ale in his hand.

“Jon.” She saw his shoulders flinch as she surprised him. He turned to her. “Dance with me.”

“No, Sansa.” He laughed, sadly. “I’m not here to dance.”

Val sat next to him. She pushed his shoulder. “Your sister asked you to dance. You dance with her.”

Sansa looked at Val. “Thank you.”

Jon sighed as Sansa grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet.

When the song started, there was some awkwardness as they started dancing, but they fell in time with everyone else soon enough.

“When’s the last time you danced Jon?”

He breathed in, and gritted his teeth. “I honestly can’t even remember.”

“Well, you clearly remembered something. You’re doing quite well.” She smiled. A question was pressing on her mind, but Sansa was nervous to bring it up. Thankfully, Jon seemed to read her mind.

“Still no sign of Bran.” Sansa knew that to be true, but her shoulders fell all the same.

“Nothing at all. I’ve asked every wilding that passed through the wall. A man like Hodor with a cripple on his back would be hard for 100,000 people to miss, wouldn’t you think?”

Sansa swallowed and looked at him. His eyes, so serious, so much like their father’s. “I’m beginning to lose hope, Jon. For both of them.”

Jon looked down at her, his jaw was tight. “We can’t. Look at Rickon.” He jutted his chin out to the left and Sansa’s eyes followed. Rickon was with their mother. They were both talking and laughing with each other. Jon continued. “A month ago, he was lost to us. Look at him now. He’s home. He’s safe and happy.” Sansa sighed. “We have to hold out hope. We have to believe that they will be found. If we give up, then they’ll truly be lost, forever.”

After her dance with Jon, Sansa was suddenly sullen. People started to dissipate, including her mother. Sansa sat down alone and sipped at her wine. She took the pins out of her hair letting the braid fall. It was too tight and her head started to hurt. She had said goodnight to Ser Gawen a while ago and now she was tired. She watched Robb and Roslin in their seats of honor. There heads were close, as they talked. Robb’s hand was on Roslin’s, he moved his thumb over her skin as they talked, head close together. _They are so happy._ They were so lucky, to fall in love after an arranged marriage. _Just like mother and father._ Sansa sighed. _I wonder if I will ever have that._

Sansa took a deep breath and turned back to the dance floor. What she saw, she just couldn’t believe. She had to look twice. When it finally clicked, she felt her heart in her throat. Mallory had a new partner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY SHIT WHAT A DAY.
> 
> I just could not get this beast finished. I'm sitting in my car at the college trying to get the next one out. Like now. So get ready. 
> 
> I don't know if you're ready.
> 
> Also, I made Gawen Glover an adult haha. I think he's Rickon's age in the books.


	54. Chapter 54

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm uhhh... I'll just...  
> I'm just gonna go ahead and leave this right here.
> 
> *hits post button and runs away*
> 
> *peeks around corner, creepily waiting for comments*

Sandor

After her third dance with him, Sandor didn’t care anymore. He filled his ale again. He lost count by the time Mallory came to him. She didn’t even ask. She just pulled him on the dance floor and started moving with him. He didn’t care. He was properly drunk and half of the guests had left anyway. He thought of what Sansa might say seeing him dance. She always asked him to dance with her, but he never would. And here he was dancing with her handmaiden. Mallory was drunk again. Maybe if she came to his room this time, he wouldn’t push her away. At the thought, something in the distance caught his eye. He looked up. Sansa was alone, sitting with a cup of wine in her hand. Her hair was undone and she was staring at him. Her eyes were huge, her mouth open. It almost looked like her hand was shaking. Mallory turned him away so he lost sight of her. The song ended and Sandor looked at Mallory. Suddenly he wanted nothing to do with her. But before he could let go of her, she reached up and pulled his face down to hers. She kissed him, and for a moment he almost gave in. But he pictured Sansa’s face again and pushed her away.

He turned his head to where Sansa was sitting. She was gone.

He searched the room, but she wasn’t there.

He moved away from Mallory, to the hallway but she followed him.

“I don’t get it! Why don’t you want me now?” Sandor tried ignoring her, but then she said, “You were certainly pleased when I came to you the other night!”

Sandor stopped and turned on her. “I don’t know what you remember, but we didn’t sleep together. I pushed you away, and you passed out. Leave me alone.”

Mallory’s face was shocked. It looked like she was slapped. He might have cared, might have felt bad, but Sansa was missing and he couldn’t care any less about Mallory right now. He turned and left her. He asked around to everyone he saw until he finally got an answer. Someone saw her headed toward the stables.

_The stables? Is she alone?_

He ran out the door and into the snow. He was about to run to the stable, until he saw the tracks. They were fresh tracks, hooves, headed into the godswood. He found a torch on the side of the castle outside, grabbed it and followed into the darkness.

He expected to find her at the heart tree, but the tracks led further into the godswood than he had ever been. Without the light of the moon and stars under the leaves, he was glad he had the torch with him.

Where could she have gone?

Luckily, the godswood was only three acres around. On the other side was the glass gardens. He hadn’t been there before, but that is where he figured she went.

His thoughts were confirmed as the tracks led him to Stranger, tied up to a tree. The beast huffed as Sandor passed him. He followed the small imprints of her feet into the glass garden. The warmth was a stark contrast to the cold and wind outside. He supposed the heat of the sun was still trapped within the glass. There were plants growing everywhere. Vegetables in the ground, fruits hanging from trees. In the quiet of the garden, he could hear her breathing. He followed the sound until he found her, alone, standing by a lemon tree.

* * *

 

Sansa

“What are you doing here?” Sansa gasped, her head whipped around. She was still catching her breath from running and riding. And Sandor was there _. Perfect. Just perfect._ She couldn’t get the image of him kissing Mallory out of her head.

“Nevermind what I’m doing in here.” She said to him. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m bringing you back.” He growled.

She scoffed at him. “You’re my sworn shield. I never should have been able to get this far on my own in the first place. Tell me, how did I manage to escape you?”

“I was dealing with something.” He said through gritted teeth.

“Dealing with something?” She laughed. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

He squinted his eyes at her. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw you. With her. Mallory. _Mal.”_ Sansa knew she wouldn’t be saying these things without the wine in her system, but she didn’t care. It felt good, to get it out. Right to the source. “Gods. I knew she was horribly inappropriate but I never thought _you_ would stoop to her level. Kissing in front of everyone like that. It was unacceptable.”

Sandor’s eyes widened at her. He looked like he was looking at a crazy person. “Oh then I’m guessing you didn’t see me push her away did you? And I told her the same thing.”

“Well, it would be the first time wouldn’t it? If you are going to sleep with my handmaiden, you both should work on making it a little less obvious.”

“Sleep with her?” Sandor almost yelled. He stepped closer to her. “You think I slept with her? Did she tell you that’s what happened?”

Sansa could feel her heart beat in her ears. She was so angry at him for everything. Never did it cross her mind that she might be wrong about something. So she spit it out. “I saw her! I saw her go into your room.”

Sandor shook his head. “I didn’t sleep with her. Gods. She was drunk. She tried, but I stopped her. And she passed out. I don’t understand how you could-“ He stopped. “Wait. What were you doing outside my room?”

 _Shit. Shit shit shit._ “I was going for a walk.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“Yes.” She tried to convince herself. “Why is that so hard to believe?”

Sandor inhaled and covered his face with his hand.

Another wave of anger passed over her. “Oh I’m so sorry Sandor. Am I exhausting to you? Well this is what you signed yourself up for isn’t it? So if you don’t like it, why don’t you and Mallory just run away together? Get married have a dozen babies and just leave me alone.”

Sandor laughed, loudly. At her. Sansa could feel the heat rising to her cheeks. He finally stopped and shook his head. “You think that I could marry her? Be happy with her? Be happy with anyone after-“ He stopped. Sansa looked down. His hands were in fists.

“Of course you can. You call her Mal, when everyone else calls her Mallory.” She heard the words in her head and regretted them before they even came out. “You don’t even call _me anything_ anymore. You don’t call me by my name. And I don’t think you ever really have. And you don’t call me little bird anymore-“

He cut her off. “That’s because you told me not to.”

“What? No I didn’t.”

He took another step closer to her. He nodded, his eyes wide and cruel. “Oh yes, you did. You told me to stop calling you that. And of course you don’t remember. It was the night you were with _him_.” He said _him_ as if it were a curse. “You said that you weren’t _my_ little bird anymore. And I asked you, when had you ever been _mine_?”

Sansa felt her chest rise and fall, rapidly with the short breaths she took. She didn’t remember that at all. She shook her head.

He looked at her, a cruel smiling playing at his lips.

“I think I’ve had enough of your accusations. Your questions.”

He took a step closer.

“I have some questions of my own.” Another step. Sansa found herself backing up.

“Why do you care if I slept with Mal?”

Another step. She didn’t answer.

“Why did you save me from the fire? Why were you watching me bathe in the stream? Why did you kiss me?”

With each question, he took another step toward her until Sansa’s back was against the bark of the lemon tree. He was there, just inches away. She could smell the ale on his breath. She could feel the heat of him on her chest.

He took a deep breath. And looked her straight in the eye. His eyes were are sharp as steel, as cold as stone. “Why do you sleep under my Kingsguard cloak?”

Sansa’s breath escaped her lips. _No. No. How does he know?_

She didn’t have time to think.

“So you think that’s what I want? Mallory?”

She swallowed. “Yes.”

He grinned at her. “You’re jealous.”

“What?”

“You, Princess, are jealous.” He laughed.

“Don’t laugh at me.” She beat his chest and tried to pull her hand away, but his hand was there, around her wrist. He held her fist to his chest. She tried with the other hand, but he held it the same. He breathed out. Her face was so close to his that she could taste it on her tongue. She felt chills go down her spine. And then he spoke.

“After looking at you every day, watching you, being beside you, kissing you-“ He breathed again. “you think I could ever be content in my life with anyone less than you?”

Sansa gasped. _What?_

And then he kissed her.

At first, Sansa tried to push against him with her hands. But he held them too tight. His mouth moved against hers, and though she tried to resist, she found herself kissing him back. Her body went slack. He released her hands, but she held them there, at his chest. His hand found the back of her head, his fingers moved in her hair. She snaked one arm up around his neck. His other hand pushed her harder against the tree

And suddenly she didn’t want any more space between them. She moved her other hand and wrapped it around his back, pushing him against her. She felt his hand move to her side. His hand was so big it almost wrapped around half of her body. She opened her mouth and moved her tongue along his lip. Half of it was rough, scarred. _Perfect._ At that thought, his tongue met hers and she thought she would faint. She was completely breathless and she didn’t care. She heard a lemon fall and hit the ground. Another, as they moved against the tree. Her skin was on fire where he touched her. She could feel sweat beading on her chest under her dress. And she didn’t care. The taste of him on her lips, on her tongue, she couldn’t think of anything she preferred more. He moved his mouth down to her jaw, her ear, her neck. She thought she would die. She’d never felt anything so good in her life. A moan escaped her lips as his thumb traced the swell of her breast underneath the fabric. And still, he wasn’t close enough. She brought his face back to hers and kissed him again. His mouth was warm, and hard against hers. She didn’t want it to end. But after a while, they slowed. Their breathing became more steady. It took everything out of her to break away from him, still breathless.

His eyes were soft as they searched hers.

“Don’t run. Not like last time.” He put his forehead to hers and she shook her head.

“I won’t. I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I CAN'T WAIT ANYMORE!  
> TELL ME!!!


	55. Chapter 55

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ummm this might be my favorite.

Sansa

They stood there for a while, Sansa couldn’t say how long. When her breath came back to her, she opened her eyes. He hadn’t moved. His eyes were closed. His hands still on her. One at the small of her back. One pressing between her shoulders. She hadn’t realized how close they were, with her eyes closed, just feeling him against her. It just felt so perfectly right. Slowly, she peeled her hands away from him. She pulled her arms back until her hands were between them. For a second, she just kept her hands there. She didn’t know where to put them. He still hadn’t moved. She breathed in and put her palms on his chest. She looked at her hands against him in the darkness. They were so bright, so small compared to his massive chest. She felt the muscles underneath. She felt his heart, beating, fast and hard, like it was going to burst out of his chest and into her hands. Looking at the rest of him, she felt so small. She’s been close to him before, she knew how big he was, but being wrapped up in his arms like this, it was completely different. She didn’t want to move. She didn’t want to think about _anything else_.

At that thought, he opened his eyes. They stared into hers, through her. He breathed in and moved his hands up her back, leaving chills in their wake. His fingers went into her hair, his thumbs came around her to face and moved across her cheekbones, his eyes never leaving hers. He moved in to kiss her again. Sansa kept her eyes on his, and she noticed how much he had to bend down to reach her mouth, and she was already on her toes. He kissed her, just once, watching her all the while. Sansa resisted putting her arms around his neck again. He pulled away, painfully slowly. He took a step back, and moved his hands out of her hair. He took another step back and Sansa’s hands fell from his chest and down to her sides. Suddenly, she felt cold, alone.

She took a deep breath and swallowed. She kept her eyes on him, as he watched her. Her hand went up to her mouth, her finger felt her lip, still warm from his. Her other hand wrapped around her middle as she breathed. She felt like her stomach was going to flip, like she had to hold it down. She shook her head and felt a smile creep onto her lips.

“I have to bring you back now, little bird.” His voice was rough, but quiet. His eyes were bright in the dark.

Sansa felt a lump in her throat. She didn’t want to go back. She didn’t want anything else, but to be in here, in the glass gardens, under the lemon tree, _with him_. _Him. Sandor._ _Sandor_. She shouted his name in her head. She laughed quietly under her breath. She shook her head and bit her swollen lip as she looked at him. A trace of a smile was on his mouth, his eyes were soft.

He held his hand out to her, she reached out and took it. She looked down at her feet. One of her shoes had come off. _How did that happen?_ She used him to balance as she put it back on. She stepped over to him, stepping over fallen lemons in the dirt.

She stood next to him, he locked his fingers in between hers and tilted his head toward the entrance. They walked out of the heat of the glass house and into the cold and snow. She hadn’t been thinking when she came outside. She didn’t have a cloak. The snow had stopped, but it laid thick on the ground. Sansa waited to step into it. Her feet would freeze. She felt Sandor let go of her hand. Before she realized what he was doing, he knocked her feet out from under her, she gasped and she fell into his arms. He lifted her high and walked over to Stranger. The horse moved his head, shaking off the snow that had fallen on him. Sandor lifted her up into the saddle and she held onto the pommel. The cold hit her hard, without him holding her. But it wasn’t for long. Sandor put his foot in the stirrup and lifted himself up into the saddle. He settled in behind her. He reached around her for the reins. Sansa moved back into him to get more comfortable. She leaned against his body, her head against his chest, and she was warm again. He kicked his legs into Stranger and turned him around, toward the castle. Once Stranger was on the path her gathered the reins in his right hand, which he then rested on her thigh. She watched as his left arm snaked around her middle, pulling her even tighter against him. She wrapped her arms around his and she didn’t let go. She felt their breathing become in sync, her chest rising when his pressed against her back.

The trees began to thin out, Sansa could see the gates in the distance.

She felt him bend his head down toward hers. She felt his mouth on her ear as she whispered. “Close your eyes.” His breath was warm on her cold skin, but she shivered as she closed her eyes. She had to bite her cheek so she wouldn’t smile. He turned Stranger to the stables. No one would be there at this hour. She felt the warmth surround them as they entered the stable.

“No one’s here.” He whispered again as they stopped. She opened her eyes. He let go of her and slipped off of the saddle. His hands wrapped around her middle as he lifted her down. For a second, she thought he was going to kiss her again as he set her on the ground, but he let go of her. He turned to Stranger and quickly ushered him to his stall. He closed the gate and turned back to her.

“You’ve drunk too much again, Princess.”

She squinted her eyes at him, and then she realized what he meant. She needed to pretend. She bit her lip and shook her head at him as he walked over to her. He scooped her up into his arms.

 _Is this what it’s been like? Whenever I’ve passed out? Gods._ She wished she had been awake to experience it before. _Although_ , she thought, _he probably never held me as close as this._ His right arm under her legs completely wrapped around them. His left felt strong under her back. His hand on holding the top of her arm, just under her shoulder. Her left hand was on his chest and so was her cheek. She closed her eyes as he brought her into the cold.

* * *

Sandor

He always loved the way it felt, to hold her in his arms. To know that he was the one to keep her safe, whenever she was in danger, whenever she was unwell. But here she was, in his arms, awake and aware of every part of him that touched her.

He watched her face as he brought her out into the cold. She was biting her bottom lip, a smile turning her mouth up at the side.

“You’ll have to try better than that.” He whispered to her.

Her eyes flickered under their lids, but her mouth went straight. Sandor looked around, the yard was empty, but he still heard music coming from inside. He saw the open gate to the godswood and his thoughts slowly returned to what had just happened.

She was there. Just standing there. She looked upset. But angry when she saw him. He hung up the torch on the wall and walked over to her.

He never once expected an argument like the one they had. Mallory? Sandor shook his head. _How could she ever think I would want Mallory?_

He thought back to the things he said. How he knew about her watching him. That he wanted to know why she had kissed him, why she had saved his life. When he mentioned the cloak, he could see that any strength she had left in her had shattered.

And then he told her. That Mallory was _nothing_ , that nobody was _anything_ , as long as she was around. He couldn’t hold back anymore. He had to kiss her. He had to hold to, to feel her.

He hadn’t expected her to react to quickly to him. He expected a bit of a fight and then that she would give in soon enough. He knew she wanted this. She wouldn’t have kissed him in the godswood if she didn’t. But almost as soon as his lips were on hers, she was holding him as tight as he held her. Her skin was hot, underneath the fabric. When he felt her tongue on his lip, he knew in that moment that he had never felt anything so perfect in his life. That was until his hands started to search her body. His hand couldn’t hold her head close enough to his. His other hand on her hip, slowly moving up her side. _She’s so small. I could snap her in two._ If he had been thinking, he probably wouldn’t have felt her higher, but he moved his thumb along the bottom of her chest, where the swell of her breast began. And then she moaned into his mouth. He was sure she would break, with how hard he held her then. He thought she would yelp, push him away, but she only held him tighter, pulling him harder against her. His neck, his back started to ache, bending down as far as he was. But he didn’t care. He kissed, tasted, more of her. Her jaw, her ear, her neck. _Seven hells, that neck_. He resisted the urge to sink his teeth into her.

When he knew he couldn’t handle anymore, he slowed down. He still held her tight when his lips left hers. He couldn’t let go. He couldn’t imagine it. He put his forehead against hers.

“Don’t run. Not like last time.”

She was breathless, breathing hard on him. “I won’t. I promise.”

Still, he couldn’t let her go. He felt as she slowly began to pull away from him, her hands moved to his chest. Slowly, he moved his hands up her back, never leaving her body. He put his fingers in her hair and looked at her.

Sandor Clegane never thought he would be able to see Sansa Stark this closely. It had never been a thought that he would allow himself to have, until she kissed him in the godswood. He moved his thumbs under her eyes, eyes that he knew he was currently drowning in. _This face. Her face. This is her. She’s here. With me._ He kissed her again.

Looking down at her now, seeing those cherry red lips, swollen and raw from his own, he wanted to kiss her again. But he looked away from her and went inside.

The first person he saw was Robb. His eyes were wide as found them, full of concern.

“I was looking for you. The both of you. I didn’t see either of you leave.” He said as he strode over to them. “Is she hurt?”

“She’s alright. Too much wine.”

“Ah, I see. Well, take her up to bed then. Thank you, Clegane.”

Sandor nodded once at him. From the corner of his eye, he saw a hot blush come to Sansa’s cheek and he had to bite back a grin.

As he moved through the halls and climbed the stairs, he moved his thumb along her arm. He felt her fingers ever so slightly react, and feel against his chest.

The sounds of the ball became more and more distant as he got close to her room. He passed his on the way. He had an image in his head of kicking in his door and carrying her to his bed. But he pushed it away as quickly as it came to him. The hall was empty, but she still held her eyes closed. He could feel her heart beat against his chest. It was fluttering fast, like the little bird she was. He stopped at her room and opened the door with his foot. The room was empty, but there was a fire burning in the hearth. He had another image in his mind as he looked at her empty bed. He looked down and her eyes were open wide.

* * *

Sansa

 _Oh gods. He didn’t take it seriously did he? What Robb said?_ Sansa’s eyes were open, she was looking up at him. His eyes were wide, and they were staring at her bed. After a moment, he looked down at her. Something flashed across his face. He blinked. And he slowly put her down on her feet.

His hands were on her shoulders as he steadied her on the ground. Suddenly Sansa was incredibly nervous. She didn’t know what to think. She looked up at him. She wanted him to leave. She wanted him to stay. She wanted him to talk to her. She wanted to curl up in her bed and put her face in her pillow, never to come out of her room again. But most of all, she wanted to kiss him again. She raised herself to her toes, she reached around his neck and pulled him down toward her. She kissed him. He inhaled deeply as their lips met. She felt him start to move his hands down, but he stopped. He brought them back to her shoulders, and gently pushed her down onto her feet again.

She opened her eyes and he was looking at her. His jaw was tight and there was something in his eyes that she couldn’t identify.

She saw him swallow before he opened his mouth to speak. “I think I should leave you now.”

Sansa saw his eyes flicker back to her bed. _Oh. Right._ She just nodded, not knowing what to say. What could she possibly say? She just spent the night against between Sandor Clegane and a lemon tree. She didn’t know _what_ to think.

He released her shoulders and pulled her hands off of his neck. He blinked at her before turning for the door. His hand was on the handle, but he stopped. His head turned to the left and after a second, his body turned with it. In two long, quick strides, his mouth was on hers again. So briefly Sansa didn’t even have a chance to enjoy it. He was back at the door again. He opened it and went outside, but he stopped and turned around toward her before closing the door.

“Goodnight, Sansa.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more tomorrow my friends. 
> 
> I have my comprehensive exam in the morning. I must pass in order to receive my Master's. I wrote this for 3 hours instead of studying. If I fail, I'm blaming all of you and your lemon jokes.
> 
>  
> 
> I jest hehehe  
> LOVE YOOOOOUU!!!


	56. Chapter 56

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhh this is all I got for right now. Because I legitimately don't know where to go from here. oops.

Sansa

Sansa paced around her room for a while. Alternating between smiling, sighing, scowling, giggling and muttering to herself. _Now what?_ _What are we going to say to each other in the morning? Will we talk about it? Will we pretend like it never happened? Will it happen again?_ She felt her heart flutter inside of her when she realized that she wanted it to.

Her feet were aching before she convinced herself she should try to sleep. She pulled at the laces on her dress, remembering his hands there. Unwillingly, she thought of how easy it would have been to pull them loose on her back. Once she was finally undressed, she slipped off her shift. It was damp with sweat, from dancing, and from the heat of the glass gardens. _And him._ She looked at the dress where it lay on the floor. That thin piece of fabric was the only thing separating him from the rest of me. She looked down at her naked self. She felt a lump in her throat, remembering how he had felt her. All of her.

She shook her head. _Sleep. I have to sleep._

The fire was fading out, but there was still enough light for her to get in bed. She climbed under the furs and shivered. But she wasn’t cold. She laid there for what felt like forever, thinking of everything. The light was coming in through the window before she started to fade. The last thing she thought before she fell asleep - He called me by my name. 

* * *

“Sansa.”

Her eyes opened right away. She felt more awake than she had in a very long time. The room was bright. Shae was standing over her.

“I have water for you. Bucket if you need it. It’s almost the afternoon. You should probably get up now.”

_Oh. Right_. She was supposed to be passed out drunk last night. She quickly shut her eyes again and moaned under her breath. She put her hand out and Shae put the cup of water in her hand. Sansa lifted her head, eyes still closed and sipped at the water. Shae helped her sit up.

“Shae.” She moaned. “Do I really have to get up?”

“You do. There are still guests here that need entertaining.”

“Can’t my mother do it on her own?”

“No. Come on. You stink. Lets get you in the bath.”

Sansa scrunched her face at Shae. “I do not smell.”

“You really and truly do.” Shae grabbed her arm and yanked her from the bed. Sansa thought about telling Shae what had happened. She was the one who told her to talk to Sandor. _She probably didn’t mean that kind of talking though._ But Mallory and Anna were in the room too. If she was going to tell Shae, it would have to wait. Mallory was taking away her soiled clothes and Anna was preparing her bath. Shae shuffled her over to the tub and Anna held out her hand so she could step in. She was about to sit down, to sink her head under, but Anna gasped. “Princess!”

“What!” Sansa shouted back. Anna scared her and Sansa realized she was probably too loud.

Anna grabbed her shoulder and turned her toward Shae.

“She’s covered in bruises!”

_What! Bruises?_ Shae squinted her eyes and came over to her.

Sansa knew she should have probably sunk down into the water and hide her body away. _But, bruises? Nothing hurts._ She lifted her arm and looked down to where Anna was pointing at her side. Sansa gasped when she saw it.

A large part of her right side was indeed covered in purple and blue. Above her hip, circling around to the small of her back. It was huge. Almost as big as Sandor’s hand. _Seven hells. How hard was he holding me?_ She didn’t remember it hurting. She just remembered how she wanted him to hold her tighter.

She cleared her throat. “Gods. I think I fell last night. Must be why it doesn’t hurt. I was so drunk.” She laughed it off. Mallory and Anna squinted their eyes at her and she sunk into the water, but Shae’s face was blank. She was clearly not convinced. She had to change the subject.

“So, how did you girls enjoy yourselves last night?”

Anna’s eyes lit up as she went to speak, but Mallory cut her off.

“Oh it was so much fun! I danced with near half the men there! Ser Darol. He’s very handsome isn’t he? And Sandor. Who knew the man could dance!” Sansa cringed listening to her.

Shae sat behind Sansa on a stood and started to brush out her crimped and tangled hair. She gathered her hair together in her hands, clearing it off her neck and began to brush it out gently.

Mallory continued. “That was until he suddenly had to run off. Strange man. Anyway-“ Mallory went on but Sansa couldn’t care to listen. She realized then that Shae had stopped brushing her hair. Then she felt her hand on her shoulder, gripping into her skin. She lifted her hand and poked her neck.

“Ow, Shae!”

She heard Shae drop the brush. “Anna, could you go get another bucket of hot water please. Mallory, why don’t you bring those things down to be washed? Now.” Both girls gave Shae and Sansa a confused look, but left to do as they were told.

As soon as the door closed, Shae swatted Sansa on the back of the head.

“Shae!”

Shae was silent as she went over to the dressing table. She picked up Sansa’s hand held mirror and handed it to her. “That’s not what I meant when I said talk to him about it.”

Shae pointed to her neck and Sansa saw it in the mirror. A red, brown bruise on her neck. Where his mouth had been. “Oh.”

“Oh. Oh is right. What were you thinking! What is somebody saw?”

“I – I wasn’t thinking! Clearly!” Sansa gestured to the bruise. “No one saw anything Shae.”

“What happened! What did he do to you!”

“Shhhh! Keep your voice down! I was going to tell you but they were here.” She sighed. “Promise. Promise you won’t say a word. You won’t tell a soul.”

Shae rolled her eyes. “You know I won’t.”

Sansa took a deep breath. And then she told her. She told her about seeing him with Mallory, about running away, finding Stranger and going to the glass garden. About him finding her there. About their fight. About how he had kissed her. How she had kissed him. When she was finished, Shae wasn’t as shocked or surprised as she thought she would be.

“You better tell him to be more careful.” Shae said. “You bruise like a summer peach.”

“You’re not- mad at me? Disappointed in me?”

Shae squinted her eyes at her. “Sansa. I’m not your mother. I just wanted you to do something about this mess you started.”

“Right.” Sansa put her shoulders into the water. “Well, it’s a bigger mess now, isn’t it?”

“It is.” Shae sighed. “What are you going to do about it?”

Sansa’s ears were almost under water. “I have no idea.” And she sunk her head under the surface.

* * *

Shae helped her dress and brushed her hair down to cover the bruise on her neck. She was almost ready to leave her room and she knew who waited outside the door. Sansa’s felt her stomach jump inside her. She was sure her heart was going to pop right out of her chest. Suddenly she was unsure about seeing him. _What does he think of last night?_ She wondered if he thought less of her for some reason. She didn’t know what it would be like, seeing him after that, in the daylight, with no wine in her system, with no ale in his. Her palms became clammy at the thought. But she didn’t have time to think. Mallory opened the door, and he was standing there. He looked as he always did. She didn’t know why she expected anything different.

He looked at her. “Well, that took even longer than usual.”

She could see the pink rise to her cheeks beneath her eyes.

Shae answered him. “Yes, well we had to take special care of her. She’s got a _huge bruise_ on her side, from _falling_ last night.” She turned her head to Shae with wide eyes, before looking back to Sandor, with what she hoped was an apologetic look.

His mouth turned up at the corner, his eyes were on hers. “Clumsy little bird.” He said in a mocking tone. Her face was on fire now, she was sure of it. She looked down and walked through the door, passing him on the way. She heard his footsteps behind her and she tried to swallow a lump in her throat.

They were alone in the hall now, far

“Tired.” She said. “I didn’t get much sleep.”

“Neither did I.”

He was on her left side. She could feel him staring at her. She kept her eyes ahead.

“A bruise?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Does it hurt?”

She shook her head. “Not at all.”

He grabbed her shoulder and stopped her from walking. He turned her toward him.

He looked around them and so did she. The hall was empty. He turned back to her, with a look of concern. He moved his hand toward her. She froze. He pulled her hair back away from her neck. He tilted his head to look at the bruise he had left there.

“I’m sorry.”

She bit back a smirk and looked up at him. “No you’re not.”

He wasn’t as skilled at hiding his smile from her. He put her hair back in place. His fingers grazed her neck when he did, just for a second, but she still felt chills from it.

“Do you plan on visiting the godswood today?”

Sansa swallowed. She heard her heard hammering in her ears. “Perhaps.” She bit back another smile and turned away from him. She walked on down the stairs, he remained behind her all the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still gonna have my computer in front of me for the next hour and a half before I have to go be social. Just wanted to give you guys a little something if I don't get to post anything later tonight. I like know what I want to do, I just don't know how to get there from here. damn.
> 
> okay. i'll be here if you need me.


	57. Chapter 57

Sandor

He bruised her. He hurt her. He wanted to die. He wanted her to stab him in the heart, hang him from the broken tower. Meryn Trant bruised her, and he’d done nothing about it then. And now he was the one doing the bruising. But when he asked her about it, she didn’t seem too concerned. She was trying to hide a smile. Then he remembered her pulling him closer. _She wanted me to hold her closer, tighter._ He thought he saw something under her hair, so he stopped her and moved it back. _Meryn fucking Trant never left her that kind of bruise._

* * *

Sansa

She met her mother for a midday meal. Sandor began to enter the room behind Sansa, but Catelyn stopped him.

“Sandor. Would you mind waiting outside please.”

Sansa’s eyes were wide. She heard Sandor take a step outside the door and close it. _She knows. Someone saw. She knows._

“Please, Sansa, sit.”

Sansa stopped breathing. _I’m going to be sick._ But she sat down. She was sure her mother could hear her heart from where she sat.

Catelyn took a sip of her tea. “I heard you had, maybe a bit too much fun last night?” _She knows and she’s going to have him killed. And I’m going to be locked away forever._ “Robb said Sandor had to carry you to your room, again.” She was going to put a hole through her cheek with how hard she was biting down. Catelyn put her cup down and sighed. “I think it’s time you slow down your, drinking habits, Sansa.”

Sansa sighed in relief. She’s just talking about my being a drunk. Sansa shook her head.

“I’m sorry if I made a fool of myself, again. I was just having so much fun, with everyone all together.”

Catelyn smiled at her. “And Ser Gawen, what do you think of him?”

Sansa froze. _Ser Gawen._ She’d completely forgotten about him. _Oh no._ What did she think about him? She enjoyed sharing her evening with him, she was sure enough of that. But that had all happened before Sandor.

She cleared her throat. “I found him to be very agreeable company.”

She avoided her mother’s eyes. “Agreeable company? Sansa. You danced with him for half of the evening.”

“Yes he was a very good dancer.”

Catelyn pressed on. “And do you not find him handsome?”

“Of course I think he’s handsome.”

“Have you given any thought to-“

Sansa sighed loudly, cutting her off. “I don’t know mother. I- I don’t know if I’m in the right state of mind to be married off just yet.” She bit her lip. “Not again.”

Catelyn was quiet. Sansa didn’t want to admit that the first thing on her mind was Sandor.

Was it stupid of her to think that last night had changed things between them? That suddenly his thoughts would matter on the topic of her getting married? She felt like a fool thinking of it. _He only thinks of me as a pretty little doll to kiss. He will laugh at me even if I mention it being anything more._

But his words from last night reverberated in her head. _You think I could be content in my life with anyone less than you?_

But that wasn’t just it. Thinking about being married again scared her more than she cared to admit. Gawen is handsome and kind yes, but so was Joffrey, at the beginning.

Catelyn looked at her. “The Glovers are leaving for Deepwood tomorrow. I’ve taken the liberty of inviting Ser Gawen and Lord Robett to join us for dinner this evening.”

“Mother.” She said through gritted teeth.

“Sansa. Please. You have to admit, he’s a much better prospect then Ramsay Bolton.”

“Well, anyone is compared to him.” She sighed. “I just- I’m not ready to think about this. Not yet.” She grabbed her hand. “You all just came back. I just want to focus on my family for now, before I have to worry about- starting another.”

Catelyn’s eyes were soft, her mouth turned down at the corners. “Please mother. Just some time.”

Catelyn sighed and nodded. “Sansa.” She smiled sadly. “Sometimes I forget that your childhood got cut short.”

Sansa nodded. She was right. That was all that was said on the subject. Catelyn moved on to talk about Rickon’s manners last night and something adorable that little Eddard did that morning.

It was nice, to be able to talk to her mother about everyday occurrences. Like their lives were back to a new normal. Whatever that meant for a family like theirs. All the while, Sandor was in the back of her mind. Sansa almost felt guilty, hiding something so huge from her mother. But there was no way she could ever, would ever, tell her what she was thinking about him. At the thought, she brushed through her hair with her fingers, just to double check that her bruise was covered.

When they were finished, Sansa walked out of the room and closed the door behind her.

Sandor was there. His eyes were wide, searching hers.

She shook her head as she let out a breath. “Godswood?”

They were silent for the whole walk there. She could feel the tension between them. She didn’t know what to do. _Do I talk to him about it? Does he expect anything more of me? Has it really changed anything between us?_ Sansa sighed. _Of course it has, stupid._ She didn’t want to say anything about it. She didn’t want to talk about it. She didn’t want to talk at all. She just wanted to kiss him again. But she had to say something. They were almost at the heart tree. She breathed in to speak, but she stopped her.

“Shh. Someone’s already there.”

She squinted her eyes. _Ser Gawen. Of course._ Somewhere in her hazy mind, she remembered him saying how he had been enjoying coming to the godswood. She thought about turning to run, before he saw her. But it was too late.

“Princess Sansa?”

Sandor made a noise under his breath next to her. It almost sounded like a growl.

“Ser Gawen.” She put a smile on her face and walked toward him. “Good Afternoon.” Sandor fell in behind her.

“Afternoon.” He said. She could see his dimple in the distance. _Seven hells. Why does he have to be so handsome?_ Sansa thought that she might be able to be happy with him. He seemed to be everything she had ever wanted in a husband. Everything she used to hope that Joffrey would be. She thought she could try, move on in her life with him. But that was before last night. She pushed the thought away as she approached Ser Gawen.

“How are you today?” He asked her.

“Very well, thank you.” She watched as his eyes moved up toward Sandor. “Oh, I’m sorry. Ser Gawen, please meet Sandor Clegane.”

Gawen’s face was kind as he bent his head toward Sandor. “Pleased to meet you.”

Sansa saw Sandor nod his head once toward him from the corner of her eye.

Sansa didn’t know what to say. The conversation had been so easy last night. But she had been drinking. And it was before the incident with the lemon tree.

She sighed and walked toward the heart tree. She sat down on an uplifted root and stared into the eyes of the weirwood’s face. _What am I supposed to do?_ _Please. Give me an answer._ She ckised

“I was so pleased to receive the invitation to dine with you this evening.”

She looked up at him. “Yes. I’m looking forward to it.”

* * *

Sandor

He watched her with him. Sitting across from one another on roots of the tree. Talking. Smiling. Laughing.

He’d been stupid to think that last night would have changed anything. Changed something between them, yes. But it didn’t change her life, who she was, what was expected of her. _Seven fucking hells. I wish she never kissed me in the godswood_ , he thought. But even in his own mind, he knew he was lying to himself. Never in his life did he imagine he would get to kiss, touch, someone who wanted him to. Never, did her ever, think that it would be her who would want him to. _So what if she’s ruined me for the rest of my life. Not much of a life without her, is it?_ He decided he would enjoy the parts of her he could, as long as she wanted it, before passing her off to someone else, again.

It was his fault, in his mind, that she ended up married to the imp. If he’d been stronger, if he’d not listened to her that night, the night the Blackwater was on fire, everything might have been different. But she begged him to stay. And in his drunk mind, he listened to her. He hated himself more every day after that. He remembered being there for her wedding to the Imp. He had drunk so much that night. After Joffrey was safely tucked away for the night, he went to go find her in her new room with the Imp. He had it in him mind that he would kill him and take her out of her bridal bed, throw her over his shoulder and take her out of that hell.

He walked toward the door, he put his hand on the handle, and it was locked. Hearing the sound of the lock rattle brought him back to his senses somehow. He could get her killed, trying to take her out of there.

He didn’t know how he would be silent and still, giving her to someone else again. But she was never his in the first place. Even now. He was hers. He knew he always would be. But she would never, ever be his.

Seemed like she would be Ser Gawen’s though. _Going to have a nice family dinner together are they? And I’m going to stand behind her and watch. Watch as she falls in love with him_.

“Can I see you back to the keep, Princess?” He asked her.

Sandor looked away. _She has someone to see her back, boy._ From the corner of his eye, he saw Sansa glance over to him.

“That’s alright, thank you Ser Gawen. I’d like to stay here a while yet.”

He stood. “Very well. I’ll see you this evening then.”

Sansa just smiled at him. Gawen passed Sandor, smiled and bent his head toward him. Sandor just blinked in return. When the sound of his footsteps retreated in the distance, Sandor walked over to Sansa at the tree. She was staring into its face. He took a deep breath and sat across from her, where Gawen was sitting.

“Sansa Glover. It has a nice ring to it.”

She turned her head toward him. Her forehead was scrunched. _Shit. Maybe that was the wrong way to go about it._

“Timing.” She laughed under her breath. “Not working out so well for me, is it?”

He thought about what to say for a minute. He could have told her to tell this Glover to go fuck himself. He could have said the same about her family. But he wasn’t living in a fantasy world where everything works out, where everyone has a happy ending. Least of all him. Those stories were for the songs. For her.

He knew she wouldn’t be able to be the one to make a decision. To tell him that he could be nothing than what he already was. So he did it for himself.

“I’m not fool enough to think that last night would change anything. I hope you’re not either.” Something flashed in her eyes. It might have just been in his head, but he could have sworn she looked- _Disappointed? Hurt?_ He went on. “You are the Princess of Winterfell. I’m your sworn shield. I know you have to marry him.”

Sansa closed her eyes. She breathed in and shook her head. “You’re right.”

He laughed. “I know.” She smiled sadly at him. _Seven hells. That face._ “Doesn’t mean I can’t-“ He leaned toward her.

Her mouth popped open with a gasp before he got to her, but she didn’t move. He grabbed her face in his hands and kissed her. There in the middle of the godswood. In front of the heart tree. For all the old gods to see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sigh*
> 
> I hope to have more later. Gotta get the juices flowing. I know what I'm going to do. I just gotta get more creative with it.


	58. Chapter 58

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys,  
> Let me just say, I know not everything is geographically correct. I know not everything is exactly perfect where timing and stuff is concerned. Like I don’t describe clothes too much because that’s not fun for me to write. So if I were to write a novel, I would care about those things. But hey, I’m just a fic writer doing this for fun in my spare time. Focusing more on the relationships than anything else.   
> So thanks, to everyone who enjoys reading without nitpicking. It’s been nice. 
> 
> Also - I didn't have a chance to edit this one. Sorry for any typos. Social time again.

Sansa

“Sansa?”

“Hmmm?”

“Lord Robett asked you a question.” It was her mother.

Sansa hadn’t even heard. She was staring at her plate, pushing her food around. She was thinking of Sandor. What he said in the godswood. How he kissed her again, in front of the heart tree. After he kissed her, they didn’t talk. They just sat there, both seemingly consumed in their own thoughts. It was nice, actually, to just be quiet, but not be alone.

She shook the thoughts out of her head and turned to Lord Robett, who was sitting across from her.

“I’m sorry, my lord.”

“Not at all.” He put down the cup he was sipping from. “I was just questioning whether you would like to come and visit Deepwood sometime in the near future. For a few days.”

Sansa felt her body freeze. She swore she could feel Sandor’s eyes burning into her skull behind her.

“Your Graces would be very welcome as well.” Lord Robett gestured toward Robb and Roslin.

“I think that is a wonderful idea, don’t you Sansa?” Robb asked.

“Yes, of course. I would love to!” She looked at Gawen, who was humbly beaming at his father’s side.

“We could have you all at any time.” Lord Robett said.

“I’ll have to settle a few things before leaving but, how about a month? I think that would work well for us.”

A month. She asked her mother for time _. A month_. _Is this all I’m going to get? A month with Sandor before I have to be ready for marriage?_ The dinner went on well enough, but Sansa didn’t play a big part in the conversation. She only spoke when she was spoken to and she barely touched her food. Rickon sat next to her, doing the same thing. She just didn’t want to be there anymore.

“I’m sorry I’m not very good company tonight.” She said out of nowhere. She got a few strange looks as she put her napkin on the table.

“On the contrary Princess, you’ve been very entertaining.” Ser Gawen said. _How? I’ve barely said a word?_

She just smiled at him. “I’m quite tired actually. I’m afraid I didn’t get too much sleep last night.” She stood and all of the men at the table stood with her. Except for Rickon of course.

She looked at the guests. “Thank you for your company my lord, Ser. I hope you find safe travels tomorrow, and I look forward to our visit.” They bowed their heads to her and thanked her in return. She curtsied and turned to leave.

“Sansa!” It was Rickon. She turned back around. “Come watch me practice with Sandor tomorrow. Robb and Jon are going to come too! Right Robb?”

Sansa looked to Robb. He was smiling. “Right.”

“I’d love to come Rickon, thank you.” Her little brother’s smile lit up his whole face. She looked to the others again.

“Goodnight, then.” She turned again and left, Sandor trailing behind her.

She didn’t know what she was expecting. Her mind was so far off, walking to her room, that she certainly wasn’t prepared for what happened.

The hall was empty when they got to her room. She opened the door and turned to say goodnight, as she usually did. But he was in the door way. She watched him look down the hall in either direction. Then he turned to her. His eyes were steel. Before she even knew what was happening, he grabbed her by the waist and pushed her into her room. She gasped as he did. He closed the door behind him with his foot, never taking his eyes off of hers. She stood on her toes to reach him, he bent down to meet her. But he didn’t kiss her, not yet. His lips were an inch away from hers.

“I only have a month. I’m not wasting a second of it.” And he kissed her. His mouth was hard, rougher than it had been in the afternoon in the godswood. It was like he was hungry for her. She knew how he felt. She’d been waiting all day for this too, she just didn’t realize it with so much on her mind. She wasted no time, opening her mouth to his, letting him taste her. She put her hands on his chest. She could feel his heart again, beating like a drum. She smiled into his mouth. It made no sense that someone as small and frail as her could make the heart of someone so big and brooding as him beat like that. She noticed that he didn’t hold her as tight as he did the night before. He must remember the bruise that Shae mentioned. When she was good and truly breathless he pulled away.

He stood up straight and looked at her. Her hands were still on his chest. He moved his hands up her back and over her shoulders. He left them there. He tilted his head at her and pushed down. She was still on her toes. She didn’t even realize. A laugh escaped her lips and she covered her mouth to quiet herself.

“You make me feel so small.” She felt herself blushed and she looked down.

“You are small.” He chuckled softly and she smiled.

She pushed against his chest. “I am not. I’m quite tall for a girl, you know. You’re just- enormous.”

“That’s why we’ll never work.” He teased.

“The only reason, yes.” Her laugh died slowly and his smirk faded away.

She moved her hands away from him and he lifted his off of her shoudlers.

“Goodnight Sandor.” She breathed.

“Goodnight Sansa.”

By the time she fell asleep, she convinced herself that what they were doing was just fine. It was what she needed, to get him out of her system. She couldn’t think of how it could be a problem. _We’re just kissing. If anything, it will give me more practice for when I have to kiss Ser Gawen._ Sansa wondered if he had ever kissed a girl the way Sandor kissed her.

* * *

The next day, Sansa settled in with three direwolves to watch her brothers practice with her- whatever Sandor was. The ground was wet and muddy from the snow. Rickon had gotten much better than the last time she saw him. Sandor wasn’t going as easy on him either. Watching him move, Sansa couldn’t help but remember what Mallory said about watching him. She tried to push the thought away, sure that one of the four would notice, could read her mind.

Jon and Robb stood off on the side, giving tips and shouting encouragements to Rickon. Sansa was glad to see that the King in the North and the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch had been able to find time to practice in the yard with their little brother. It was like they were children again. Just missing Bran and Arya of course. Arya would have been shocked, to see Sansa out here watching them. Jon took a turn with Rickon. Jon took a hit on the arm, but he returned to Rickon knocking him onto his tail. Sansa couldn’t help it, she laughed out loud.

“Sansa!” Rickon yelled as he got up. “Have you ever even held a sword?”

She put her hand to her chest and tried to stop laughing. “Of course not. I’m a lady.”

Her brothers laughed.

“Sandor. Convince her. I want her to see how difficult it is. Then we’ll see who is laughing.

“Very funny Rickon.” She crossed her arms.

“What do you say, little bird?” Sandor said.

She looked up at him. “No! Absolutely not!”

“Oh come on Sansa, give it a shot!”

Rickon shouted. “The King commands it. See!”

Jon walked over to her, holding out his hand. “You made me dance. You owe me this.”

She moaned as he grabbed her hand and pulled it away from her chest, and yanked her up off of the bench. Robb and Rickon shouted and clapped for her when she stood. Sansa rolled her eyes. She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks, even in the cold.

Jon went to hand her the tourney sword her held. “Here. Hold it like-“

“No, don’t.” Sandor called. “I want to see what she does.”

Jon stuck the sword in the mud, leaving for her to pick it up on her own. She sighed and looked down on it. “I hate you all.” She muttered under her breath and grabbed it, pulling it out of the earth. She held it out in front of her, not knowing what to do, what they wanted her to do.

“Oh.” Rickon said. He looked at her, his head tilted to the side. “Oh it’s just sad. I can’t even laugh.”

The other three laughed at the comment. Sansa dropped the sword and turned away. “Sansa!” It was Robb who came after her. “Don’t be sore, come on, try again.”

“How could I be expected to know what to do! That’s not fair!” Robb turned her around and put the sword back in her hand.

She sighed heavily and looked at Sandor. He stood there, waiting for her.

He shook his head. “Come here.”

Sansa’s eyes widened. For a moment, she forgot her brothers were there and she had the urge to run up to him and kiss him, with the way he was looking at her. She quickly shook the thought away and walked toward him.

He grabbed the end of the sword and took her hand. He moved it around to the other side of the hilt. She was holding it completely wrong, somehow. She felt an all new blush come to her cheeks.

He let go of her hand, slowly and turned her by the shoulders to face Rickon.

“You’re not serious!”

Rickon giggled as he readied himself. Sandor stood behind her, with his hands still on her shoulders. “Make yourself look like him, just opposite.” She didn’t move. She heard Jon laugh in the corner. She shot him a look. Sandor chuckled behind her. “Here.” She watched his hands as he moved her arms, her hands, twisted her body into the right stance. She tried to bite back the smile that came to her lips as he touched her. But in the end she couldn’t help it. Robb and Jon wouldn’t notice anyway. Even if they did, they certainly wouldn’t know why she was smiling the way she was.

After a moment she was in the same stance as Rickon and she never felt more ridiculous in her life.

“Come at her, then.” Sandor said. “Slowly.”

Rickon approached her and swung his sword at hers. She yelped as he knocked hers out of the way. Rickon laughed, but Sandor put her back into position.

“Try to block him this time.” He told her.

When Rickon came at her again, she met his sword with a clash.

“Oh!” She yelled, suddenly proud of herself.

“Now you try.” Sandor told her. She moved herself back before mimicking Rickon’s steps and meeting his sword again.

She heard Robb shout in the corner encouraging her. She and Rickon went back and forth a few more times, but the sword was heavy on her arm and she became tired, just as Rickon was getting more excited. Just before she was going to tell him that was enough, he hit her sword too hard. She wasn’t ready and it caught her off guard. She lost her balance, and slipped in the mud. She fell backward, into Sandor, but the ground was too wet. He lost his footing and fell with her into the mud. He landed with an _oof_ , she with a yelp. It was quiet for a second, and then all at once they all started to laugh. Sansa turned over in the mud and got to her knees. She reached for Sandor, on his back behind her. He took her hand and used it to sit himself up. She was breathless from laughing as she stood, still holding his hand, and she helped him up. Once he was on his feet with her, they faced each other. She still held one of his hands in hers. He wiped off some mud from her shoulder but kept his hand there. She looked up at him as he laughed. _I think it might be one of my favorite sounds._ And then she realized that they were the only two laughing. She turned toward her brothers.

Rickon’s forehead was scrunched together. Robb’s eyes squinted at her. Jon’s face was blank, but his mouth was in a straight line.

_Oh._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops.


	59. Chapter 59

Sandor

 _Even covered in mud, there is nothing more perfect._ He held her hand in his after she helped him up. He could fill the calloused roughness of her scarred palms. He wiped the mud off of her shoulder, but still held her. _Seven fucking hells, that laugh._ He wanted to kiss her, right there.

But she looked away and the smile died on her face. She pulled her hand out of his and he followed her eyes. Six sets of eyes stared at them. Three direwolves, three brothers. Sandor lifted his hand off of her shoulder and stepped away. He walked over to her tourney sword on the ground and picked it up, he turned back to her and held it out.

She shook her head, a blush creeping to her cheeks. “Oh, no thank you. I’m done for the day.” She turned to her brothers. “And so are all of you. Time to get cleaned up for dinner.”

Rickon whined, but Sansa ignored him. She picked up her chin and strode off, walking right between Jon and Robb, who still had their eyes on him. _Fuck._ Sandor moved his feet to follow her, making sure to walk around her brothers where they stood, motionless.

* * *

Sansa

_He’s my friend, that’s all. You are making too big a deal of this. Of course I care for him, if I didn’t he wouldn’t still be around would he?_

Sansa thought of all of the excuses she possibly could for the storm of accusations that she knew would come later, she just didn’t know from who. _Robb? Jon? Certainly not Rickon. But what if Robb tells mother?_ Sansa felt her stomach drop as she got to her room. She knew Sandor walked behind her, but she wouldn’t dare look at him. She opened the door and went to close it, but his hand stopped her.

“Get out!” She nearly yelled.

His eyes were wide as he moved his hand and she slammed the door in his face. She locked it for good measure. She could have sworn she heard him laugh under his breath before his footsteps retreated into the distance.

Jon dined with them in the evening. Usually things were tense whenever Jon and Catelyn were in a room together. And she thought she must be making it up in her mind, that things seemed more tense than usual. She was prepared for the accusations. For them to tell Sandor to leave the room, before they ripped her apart. But nothing came. Just a few too long looks from Jon and Robb across the table. _But thank the gods for Rickon._ He was telling Roslin and their mother about all of the things he did with Jon, Robb and Sandor in the yard today. She watched her mother, smiling at him, hanging on his every word. It was clear that her brothers didn’t tell her what they must be thinking.

“You should have seen it mother.” Rickon laughed. “And then Sansa even tried.”

Catelyn gasped. “Sansa!”

 _Rickon_. “They made me! All of them.” She tried to defend herself. “Besides,” she picked up her glass. “Someone has to fill Arya’s muddy shoes while she’s gone.”

Sansa watched her as she took a sip. Catelyn blinked a few times and looked down at her plate.

“At least Arya knows how to hold a sword.” Jon said, a crooked smile on his face.

She noticed though, how they both still referred to her in the present tense. It was easier to hold onto hope that way.

Sansa put her cup down with a huff. “I don’t know why you were all so shocked. But I learned quickly, didn’t I?”

“Well Sandor is a good teacher. She could actually parry, somewhat. Before she knocked into Sandor and they fell into the mud.” Rickon laughed out loud. Sansa stopped breathing. _Now is the perfect chance. They are going to tell mother. And then they’re going to kill Sandor._

But no one said anything. Catelyn even laughed.

“Oh well I hope you cleaned up after that Sansa.” She said.

“Of course I did.” Sansa forced a nervous laugh and the dinner continued on without another word of it. Roslin spoke about the babies, Robb spoke about Roslin with the babies, and vice versa. Sansa was able to forget about what happened in the yard, watching the two young parents gawk about their children. It was a beautiful thing to witness. Not for the first time, Sansa had herself wishing she could be as happy as them. She pictured talking like that with Ser Gawen. It wasn’t hard to imagine, but it made her stomach drop all the same.

They stayed late into the evening, enjoying their last day in the company of Jon. When they stood to leave, Sandor was waiting for Sansa.

“Sansa.” Jon stopped her at the door. “Would you mind if I walked you to your room tonight.”

Sansa’s heart stopped. _Why?_ “Of course.” Jon looked at Sandor. “Goodnight, Clegane.”

Sansa couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He just nodded, turned and walked away down the hall. Sansa took Jon’s arm and they moved toward her room. It was quiet for a moment. Sansa figured he wanted to talk to her about something, but he said nothing. She searched her mind for a topic.

“What do you think of your niece and nephew?”

She knew Jon met them the other day, but she never had a chance to talk to him about it.

“They seem- perfect. Never much liked babies either.” He said. “Especially after Rickon was born.” Sansa laughed, remembering how difficult of a baby he was.

“Yes, we should have known then what he would turn out to be.”

Jon laughed with her. A rare sound, she realized. _Just like father._

She turned to him. “They look like you, you know?”

“Hmm.” He seemed thoughtful. “Even Lyanna?”

She smiled. “Especially Lyanna.”

“If she’s lucky, she’ll look more like her namesake than me. More like Arya.”

Sansa smiled, realizing that she had hoped for the same thing.

They got to her room and he let go of her arm. He still said nothing.

“Well then. I’ll see you off in the morning.” He was looking at his feet. “Goodnight, Jon.” She went to close the door.

“Sansa, wait.” His hand pushed against the door.

 _Oh seven hells. Here it comes._ She took a breath. “What is it?” He looked at her, gritting his teeth, still saying nothing. “Jon!”

He shook his head. “Sorry. It’s just- something I noticed today. In the yard.” She waited. “With Sandor.” Sansa’s heart was in her throat.

“Watching you two together. It was- strange.”

Her heart beat one thousand times a second. “What do you mean?”

“Well, the way he touched you for one thing, when he was showing you how to fight.”

Sansa’s face was aflame, she was sure. “Jon. You said it yourself, he was just showing me how to move.”

Jon breathed out. He seemed to have trouble looking her in the eye. “I know. But then when you fell, helped him up. The way he was looking at you. And he just seemed to hold on to you for too long. I don’t know, something just didn’t feel right.”

He pulled his hand through his hair. He was clearly uncomfortable saying this to her. But nowhere near as uncomfortable as she was.

“Jon. You are putting way too much thought into this. That was nothing.”

He looked at her. “It’s not just me. Robb thought the same thing.”

Sansa clenched her jaw, suddenly angry. “If Robb thinks the same thing then why isn’t he telling me this too?”

Jon ignored the question. “All I’m saying is, be careful. If there is ever a time that you don’t feel safe, don’t be afraid to tell someone.”

“What do you mean if I don’t feel safe?”

“If he ever hurts you. Or if you ever think he might, you have to tell someone.”

Her jaw went slack. “Sandor would never hurt me. I can’t believe you would say such a thing.”

“Well, I don’t know him Sansa. No one really does.”

“Well I do. He’s my friend. He keeps me safe. And if you must know, he is the only one who was able to keep me safe, and alive when I was a prisoner in King’s Landing.”

She spat the words at him. Jon’s eyes were soft, so much like her father’s. She immediately felt guilty.

Jon sighed. “Well the way he looked at you Sansa, I wouldn’t be surprised if he thought of you as more than the girl he swore to protect.”

She couldn’t help it. She laughed out loud. It was because he was completely spot on, but she played it off as if what he said were absolutely preposterous. “That is just ridiculous. Like I said, he is my friend. My shield. Nothing more.” Jon looked down again. And she felt guilty. _He’s right, you know. It’s not his fault that he is just concerned for you._ Sansa sighed and put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I know you are just looking out for me. But I am perfectly safe, I promise you.”

* * *

Sansa was glad she and Jon finished on good terms. She would have felt awful, saying goodbye to him in the morning if they had been fighting. It was snowing, lightly. There were flakes in his hair when she hugged him goodbye. When he was gone, her family retreated back into the keep.

Sansa turned to Sandor, who’d been standing dutifully behind her.

“Godswood?”

He smirked at her and followed her in the direction she headed.

It was the first time they were alone since the night before last, when he kissed her in her room. She didn’t even get to say goodnight to him last night, with Jon walking her to her room. She found that her sleep that night was fitful and filled with her old torturous nightmares. She woke up for good before the sun and waited at the window for it to come up. She was glad to be alone with him again, there in front of the heart tree.

She looked at the snow beginning to cover the ground and moved it around with her foot. “Not good enough for another fight.” She smiled and looked up at him.

His eyes were soft again as he looked at her. She saw him swallow before speaking. “What did your brother want with you last night?”

 _Oh. He must have been thinking the worst too_ , she thought. _They hadn’t even spoken what happened in the yard._

She sighed. “He wanted to warn me.”

“About what?” He took a step closer. Sansa felt a tickling in her stomach as he did.

“About you.”

“Did he now?” He stood right in front of her.

“Mhmm.” She felt her face warm. “Says you see me as more than just the girl you’re sworn to protect.”

He wrapped his arms around her and drew her close to him so they were pressing against each other.

“Did you tell him he’s right?”

His mouth came down to meet hers as she reached up on her toes. He kissed her once, hard, but not hard enough. He pulled away, but kept her face close, his eyes staring down into hers.

“Yesterday was a waste of a day. Don’t let it happen again.”

A quiet giggle escaped her mouth before he kissed it away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More later I hope! If class is just another boring lecture tonight then I'll have time to write!  
> Never thought I'd hope for a boring lecture haha
> 
> I'm sorry about not posting yesterday! I had a bridal shower and then family time for the rest of the day.
> 
> Oh oh oh! Guess what I was drinking yesterday - PASSION Tea and LEMONade with LEMON vodka and LIMONcello garnished with- guess what! A LEMON.  
> *turns to camera with deadpan face like Jim in The Office*


	60. Chapter 60

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy 20k hits Batman!
> 
> I'm flabbergasted. Flabbergasted enough that the only word I found appropriate enough was flabbergasted bahahaa.  
> Oh and as AdultOrphan pointed out, this fic is now in the number one spot for most comments in the Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark tag. If I made sense of that. And that is because of all of you and how awesome you are.  
> Thank you so so so much.

Sansa

She didn’t let it happen again.

Sansa and Sandor made sure that they had a few moments alone together every day.

Sansa couldn’t believe how- normal it felt. She thought it might be awkward. That it might be uncomfortable between them, that she’d be nervous around him. But she wasn’t. It just seemed so perfectly – normal. And so quickly too. Almost immediately after than night under the lemon tree. But they fell into a pattern. She just wanted to kiss him, _all the time_.

She found herself staring at him throughout the day. Thinking about him when he wasn’t there. A few times during the day she would think of seeing him in the stream. Her palms always became sweaty when she thought of it. When she was sleeping, if it wasn’t a nightmare, it was a dream. Of him. Of being with him. Under the lemon tree. Once, in her bed. She woke up with a start when it happened. She jumped out of her bed with a gasp, suddenly afraid to be in it with her own thoughts.

Sansa never knew she would feel like this about a man. She didn’t really know it was possible. Her septa only told her that being with a man was for the purpose of bearing his children. That it would be pleasurable for him, but not for her. But she always wondered how much a woman who never laid with a man knew so much about the act itself. Sansa used to ask her mother questions when she was young, but she never learned much. She certainly couldn’t ask her anything now. She thought about talking to Shae about it. She certainly knew all there was to know. But then she remembered that Shae was in love with her husband, and she didn’t really want to hear about him in that way. She supposed she could talk to Roslin. She certainly wasn’t as experienced as her mother, or Shae. She was relatively new with it too.

Sansa tried to put those thoughts away for most of the day, but it was almost impossible when she was with him. Sometimes, she was sure he could read her mind, that he knew what she was thinking of him, consciously or unconsciously. They usually went to the godswood, or in her room right behind the door. He never pushed her past the entrance of her room once they were inside of it.

He never held her as tight as he did that night. He didn’t feel her in the same way either. He would hold her head close to his or have his hands on her back. But they didn’t roam, not like they did that first night, not like she wanted them to. He only ever kissed her mouth, not her jaw, her neck, like he did the first time. She found herself pulling him in closer. And he was the one who would push her away, _every single time_. He was the one to end it. She figured he took those liberties that first night because of how much he had to drink.

But after a few days, she was beginning to wonder if he was tiring of her. If, now that he had kissed her, touched her, that he’d had enough. That he’d gotten what he wanted and he would move on to Mallory for something more. She certainly hadn’t tired of him. With each passing day, she hungered for him more. The better part of herself wondered if he was just being careful, careful not to get too distracted, so they wouldn’t caught.

They’d already been caught once, in the godswood.

He snuck up on them, Sansa hadn’t even heard him moving through the leaves she was so focused on the man in front of her.

He jumped up on them. She pulled away from Sandor and screamed, falling into the ground.

He was on top of her. He licked her face.

“Shaggy! Get off!”

The wolf stood over her and she tried to push him away, but he was too strong. All she heard was Sandor guffawing from where he stood. How he managed to keep his balance, she wasn’t sure.

“Rickon!” She yelled.

Rickon came running through the trees, a long stick in his hand.

Her burst out laughing when he saw her on the ground. “Shaggy!” He hit the stick against the tree. “Shaggy come!” He couldn’t stop laughing, but mercifully the wolf listened and let her go.

She swatted Sandor’s hand away as he went to help her up.

* * *

The incident had scared Sansa. Not from being at the mercy of a gigantic direwolf, but from nearly being caught by Rickon.

Sandor had walked her back to her room after another dinner.

They got in her room, they just stood there, looking at each other.

She broke the silence. “What if it was Rickon who found us first?”

He sighed. “I thought the same thing.” He looked, unsure, uncomfortable almost. She thought he was going to suggest that they stop. They were leaving for Deepwood in just three weeks now. _Maybe he’s had enough._

But he just looked at her. “We’ll just have to be more careful then.” And he kissed her.

The next morning, Sandor was at her door.

“What is on the schedule for today?” He asked her.

For once, she didn’t have anything planned. She didn’t have anything she needed to do. Only something she wanted to do.

“I haven’t been on a ride for a while.” She looked up at him from under her lashes. “Have you ever seen the wolfswood?”

The sun was covered in grey clouds. It looked like snow, but nothing had fallen. Not yet. They walked to the stables and had her chestnut be prepared. Sandor and Sansa went to get Stranger ready themselves. He helped her up onto her horse, even though she could do so on her own. She would have much rather shared Stranger with him, but she knew how it would look.

They were next to each other, going through the yard, through the gate, and then they were free. She looked at him from the corner of her eye. He was watching her, he looked like he wanted to say something. But she didn’t give him a chance. She put her heels into her horse and they were off. Her hood fell from her head, the cold wind whipped against her face. But it felt good to be out in the open air. She turned her head behind her. Stranger and Sandor were closing in on her. She gasped and tried to go faster. But her chestnut was no competition for Stranger, even with Sandor on his back. Before she knew it, they flew right by her.

“No fair!” She yelled, breathlessly.

They were at the edge of the wolfswood when they stopped. He waited for her there, a smile on his face. She slowed her horse, but didn’t stop once she reached the edge. She went right past him and into the trees. She heard him follow her.

They were quiet in the wood. All she heard was the sound of the earth, twigs and leaves under the hooves of the horses. It was calming. Quiet. Somewhat dark, with no light coming through the leaves. Sandor followed her lead. She didn’t really know where she was going. She so rarely came in here when she was young. They continued for several minutes, until they were deep in the trees. Sansa could hear her heart beating in her ears as she stopped her horse. Sandor stopped next to her. She watched him dismount. She swung her leg around to the side as he came to her. She was sure he could hear her heart from where he stood. She felt her stomach flip inside her when he reached for her. His hands wrapped nearly all the way around her middle. He lifted her up easily enough. She put her hands on his shoulders to steady herself. They stared at each other as he lowered her down, painfully slowly. She thought her heart was going to burst as her face finally reached his. Her feet never touched the ground.

She threw her arms around his neck, wrapping them completely around him. And she kissed him. He wrapped his arms around her middle, holding her to him, still off the ground. She wasted no time, opening her mouth to his. Their tongues met. He was warm. He tasted like – like him. She was sure that it was her new favorite flavor, even better than lemon cakes. She wanted more of him. She wanted him to touch her, to kiss her neck again. But she felt his arms loosen as he put her down. He stood up straight, making it impossible to reach him on her own. He took her arms and slipped them off of his neck.

He stared at her now, but his eyes were softer than before.

Sansa huffed, frustrated now. She walked away from him, away from the horses. She heard him following her. She crossed her arms. She kept picturing him with Mallory and it made her feel sick. She stopped at a tree with a vast trunk. She turned around, spun on him.

“Why do you always push me away?”

He looked shocked. It faded quickly, into a laugh. It only made her more frustrated. She pushed him, but the force only pushed her back against the tree while he remained still. “Don’t laugh at me.”

He stopped laughing, but an evil smirk still remained on his face.

“Don’t. You are always pushing me away. Just tell me why. If you don’t want to do this anymore, then we don’t have to. You were the one who said not to waste any time. I thought that meant-“ She stopped. She didn’t know what she wanted to say. She realized she sounded like a little girl, whining the way she was.

And he laughed again. She wanted to hit him. But she had a better idea. She grabbed the front of his cloak and yanked him toward her. He wasn’t expecting it and he fell forward. He put his hands out to catch himself and they landed on the tree, on either side of her head. His face was close. She kissed him again. She could tell he was holding back. If there was ever a time not to, it was now, in the quiet, in the private wood, with no one around. So she opened her mouth again and she nipped at his lower lip. She felt him take a sharp breath in, and then his tongue met hers again. She pulled him closer, he closed the space between them. His one hand was still against the tree, but he wrapped the other around her lower back. She was breathless and dizzy. They were clumsy. Their teeth clashed. She laughed into his mouth and pulled him even closer. He took another step and then they were pressed against each other, closer than they ever were before. Closer than they were under the lemon tree. She felt him everywhere. Her chest against his. His leg in between hers. He moved from her mouth and she smiled as he did. His mouth was at her jaw again, her ear, and when he reached her neck she was sure her chest would explode. She sighed from the feeling, chills running down her spine. He pressed himself into her, once. And again. Then she felt it. Him. His manhood, hard, against her. She froze. And after a second, so did he. He groaned into her neck and pulled away.

His hands moved behind her head again, against the tree. He sighed, and looked at her. “You wanted to know why I’m always the one to stop.”

Her mouth was open and her eyes were wide, staring at him.

He closed his eyes and sighed again. He stepped back and turned around, walking back toward the horses.

Sansa didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t expecting that at all. _Well, of course you should have expected it, stupid._ He’s a man after all. She didn’t know what to think. She supposed she should be-relieved. She’d been so worried that he was getting sick of her. With a slow, dizzying realization, Sansa thought that it probably would have been much easier if he had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh! Oops! 
> 
> Lotsa lemony-ness.
> 
> No full juice yet though. We'll get there. Not yet. But, maybe soon. Maybe.


	61. Chapter 61

Sansa

The ride back to the Winterfell was quiet. She didn’t know what to say after what had happened. He surely wasn’t attempting any conversation. She didn’t want to admit it but what happened had scared her. Not that he was going to hurt her, but that she had _wanted_ it.

She stopped out of shock, but if he didn’t pull away, she wouldn’t have wanted him to.

Later in the day, when Sandor was with Rickon, she went to visit Roslin and the babies.

Lyanna was already sitting up on her own. Sansa sat with her on the floor, holding her hand as she played with a toy in front of her.

Roslin had just put Eddard down for a nap. She came and sat next to Sansa with a sigh.

“Are you excited for our trip to Deepwood Motte?” Roslin asked her.

Sansa breathed in deep. She wanted to be honest, but she couldn’t tell her why.

“I’m quite nervous actually.”

Roslin nodded, seemingly understanding. “Well you’ll have the time to get to know Ser Gawen then. And when we come back, we’ll plan your wedding. We’ll have a great feast, and _dancing_.” Roslin grabbed her hand and squeezed it. Sansa smiled nervously, she didn’t know how to ask her about it.

Roslin seemed to notice that something was off. “What is it? Something’s wrong.”

Sansa sighed. “Nothing’s wrong. Just, something I’ve been thinking about.”

Roslin nodded, encouraging her to speak.

Sansa ran her hand over her face. “The wedding night. The bedding."

“You didn’t have a bedding ceremony at your wedding to Tyrion Lannister, correct?”

“No. Thank the gods. We never even slept in the same bed.”

“Well, I’m sure you’re nervous then. For the pain?”

Sansa nodded. Her face was aflame with blush she was sure. “Yes. And just, not knowing what to do.”

“I was nervous too. Robb was fighting a war. We didn’t have the time to get to know each other in the way that you and Gawen will. So on the night of our wedding we were both terribly nervous. It did hurt, but it was over quickly.”

“Does it always hurt then?”

Roslin laughed. “No. Quite the opposite actually.”

“So it _can_ be enjoyable then?” _Septa Mordane, you horrible liar._

“Yes! Very much.” Roslin laughed again. “The second time it wasn’t as bad. The third. It didn’t hurt at all. The fourth.” She raised her eyebrows, and a blush crept to her cheeks.

Sansa giggled at the face she made.

“It took some time, but once we knew each other better, once we knew each other’s bodies, it-“ Roslin smiled in a way that made Sansa feel like she was intruding on something. “It’s perfect.”

Sansa scrunched her nose. “You’re talking about my brother, remember.”

Roslin became even redder and covered her face with her hand to hide her giggles. Sansa laughed with her.

“I’m sure that when you do eventually marry Ser Gawen, that the same with happen for you, and you will be as happy as Robb and I are.”

_Gawen. Right. She’d completely forgotten about him._

Roslin grabbed her hand again. “And you will be so close too! Us here at Winterfell, you over at Deepwood. It will be perfect.

_Perfect. It does sound perfect doesn’t it? Then why does it feel so horribly wrong?_

* * *

Sandor

Why do I push her away? Why do _I_ push _her_ away?

He laughed thinking about it. How was he supposed to answer that?

_Because when you’re that close to me I stop thinking._

_Because I’m afraid to hurt you._

_Because you’re not mine._

_Silly little bird_.

He’d never done anything so difficult in his life, pulling himself away from her. It was almost painful.

He tried not to think of her in that way for so long. For years. But here she was, asking him for more.

He knew he scared her, in the woods. _Good._ She needs to be scared. She doesn’t realize what she’s doing. He couldn’t stop thinking of her face though as she stared at him. He felt bad, for a second. But then, _what did she think was going to happen?_

Sometimes, with the way she kissed him, he forgot that she’d never been with a man before. _But she’s so good at it._ As far as he knew, the only person she ever kissed like that was Ser Greenboy. She barely had any more experience than he had. And she bit his lip. _Where the fuck did she learn that?_

He was distracted again, thinking of her when he was with Rickon in the yard. He was distracted, staring at the back of her head when she dined with her family. When he walked her back to her room he thought about her. But when they got to her room, he pictured her face the way it was in the wood. And he couldn’t look at her. He turned away before she closed the door.

“Sandor?”

He stopped and sighed before he turned back to her. Her eyes were wide. She was waiting for him. _What are we doing?_ He shook his head. “Goodnight, little bird.”

He turned back before he could convince himself otherwise. He walked down the hall, feeling her eyes on his back, until he got to his room.

He forced himself to open the door and go inside. He closed the door slowly behind him, even though he wanted to slam it.

 _What am I doing?_ He slumped down in his chair, kicked off his boots, and stared into the fire. That was one thing that was nice about living in a castle; not having to light his own fires.

Even though he asked her those questions that night in the glass gardens, he still didn’t have an answer. He figured that she stared at him in the stream because she was curious. Now he knows it was more than that. That she was _attracted_ to him. He barked out a laugh thinking of it. How the little bird would want anything to do with the Hound was lost on him. He would never understand that, he realized. He hoped that that’s all it was for her. That she just wanted to see what it was like to kiss someone else before she’s stuck with that Glover for the rest of her life. It was more than that to him. _It always has been._ He knew it would be difficult to stand by her as another man claimed her for his own. But now? _It’s going to be fucking impossible._

For her sake, he hoped she thought nothing more of him. _But why did she sleep under my old cloak? Does she still?_ He shook his head. He was sure he would never understand.

He reached to the table where he had some wine. Dark Dornish Sour. He poured it into a cup and drank deeply.

He didn’t know when he fell asleep. But when he woke he had a headache, the fire was dying in the hearth, and there was a knock on the door.

He wiped his hand over his face and got up to answer the door. He wasn’t thinking straight. Wasn’t thinking of who it could be. And he definitely wasn’t expecting her.

She was standing there, small, cold and wide eyed as ever. In a nightshift and a robe. Nothing on her feet. She looked at him.

“I-“ She breathed in. A shuddering breath. “I can’t sleep.” She was shaking. “Can I come in?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I know its not a lot ugh. But I had an interview today. Also no wifi in the morning while I was trying to get all of my shit together for it. Worked out. Interview was fine. Won't know anything yet but at least I got to start writing this during class tonight!
> 
> So this is all I've got tonight. Going out for baby brother-in-law's 21st birthday!!!
> 
> Weeeee! No lemons sorry!  
> But ooooo cliffhangaaaa


	62. Chapter 62

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yea - 700 kudos. I just, I don't get it.  
> Y'all are insane.  
> Thank you so so so much.

“Arya!” Sansa laughed with her sister. They were running through the yard in Winterfell, slipping through the mud. “Arya wait!”

She saw her sister in front of her as she ran. She turned her head back and laughed. Her long face was bright, smiling. “You’ll never catch me, even with those long legs of yours, Sansa!”

But Arya wasn’t watching where she was going. She slammed into the back of a man and they stopped. Sansa stood to catch her breath, laughing all the while. And then it changed. The man’s grey clothes morphed into white armor. The openness of Winterfell’s yard closed in with red walls, suddenly dripping with banners of lions and stags. The iron throne thrust up out of the ground. And on it, Joffrey sat, his crossbow pointed at them. His gilded crown tilted on his blonde curls, almost as crooked as the grin on his mouth.

Sansa’s stomach dropped. “No. Arya run!”

But it was too late. Sansa felt strong hands hold down her arms as she tried to move. The man in white armor turned on Arya and grabbed her. Sansa watched her sister struggle, helpless.

“Sansa.” Her grey eyes were wide, begging her for help.

_Sandor. Where is he? He can help. He will help._

She looked around the throne room for him. Between the crowd of people that were there to watch, he finally came walking through.

“Sandor! Please!” She screamed for him. “Help her!”

He stared straight ahead as she fought against the man who held her back. “Sandor!”

Arya screamed. Ilyn Payne was walking toward her, a dagger in his hand. Flaming red. The man who held her forced her mouth open.

“Sandor! Please!” Sansa screamed. But he walked past her. She watched him as he moved to Joffrey’s side, turned and faced in her direction. His face was empty. He did not look at her.

Arya screamed louder. Sharper. It hit Sansa’s ears like the hot knife that threatened her sister’s tongue. Arya’s screams were louder in her ears, ever louder, until she realized that they were her own.

 

Sansa opened her eyes. She stopped screaming. She was in her bedroom, legs tangled in the blankets and furs.

The fire was out. She couldn’t see anything. But she knew she was in her room. She was safe at Winterfell. Her heart threatened to pound out of her chest. She shuttered and put her hands to her face. It was wet, covered in tears that still fell from her eyes uncontrollably. She sat there for a moment in the darkness, trying to calm her breathing, but she couldn’t stop shaking.

Sansa hadn’t truly slept in several days. If it wasn’t a jarring dream about Sandor, it was her nightmares that woke her up long before the sun. She hadn’t dreamt about Arya in a while. This one was particularly horrible for some reason. She kept picturing Sandor, standing next to Joffrey, doing nothing to help her. It might have been the worst one yet.

There was no chance she was getting back to sleep tonight. She thought of the cloak in the trunk. But it wasn’t what she needed. She felt along her bedside table for her candle. With shaking hands, she lit it in the dark. She stood up and moved the candles over the walls, checking for the lions and stags that she knew were long gone. She didn’t want to get back into bed. She didn’t want to sleep again. Not if that is what she saw.

With a deep breath, she made up her mind. She found a nightshift, slipped it over her head. She picked up the robe that hung on a peg on the wall and tied it tight around her waist. She took the candle in her hand again and opened the door.

Before she knew it, before she had time to rethink anything, she was at his door, knocking.

She heard fumbling around in the dark. It took a moment, but he finally opened the door. He stood there, still in his clothes from the day. She woke him up, that much was clear. But his eyes were alight with the shock of seeing her there. He looked her up and down, utterly confused, by his expression.

“I-“ She was still shaking. Breathing heavy. “I can’t sleep. Can I come in?”

He didn’t say anything. He opened the door wider and motioned for her to enter. She’d never been inside his room before. It was just a bit smaller than hers. There was a table near the hearth with two chairs. One hard backed, one big and soft looking. There was a flagon of wine on the table. And from the look of it, it was empty. She saw his boots splayed out in the middle of the floor in front of the dying fire. She avoided looking at it, but there it was. His bed. It was big. Bigger than hers. It was simple too. Not posted at the corners like hers. The blankets and furs were neat, pulled up to the pillows. It didn’t look like had slept in it tonight. He came around to her.

“You’re shaking.” He didn’t touch her, but it looked like he wanted to.

She nodded.

“Do you want to sit?”

She nodded again. He moved the comfy chair closer to the hearth. She sat down in it as he found another log for the fire. It caught quickly and the room became brighter. She pulled her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around them, staring into the flames.

She heard him pull the other chair closer to hers, and sit down. From the corner of her eye, she saw him lean forward, his hands on his knees, and he watched her.

“Is everything alright?”

She breathed in deep and nodded. She let out the breath, closed her eyes and rested her face against her knees, facing him on her left. “Nightmare.”

She heard him sigh. “Do you get them a lot?”

She opened her eyes to look at him. “Every night.” He stared at her, intently, but remained quiet. So she continued. “But this one was particularly awful.” She shook her head and took another deep breath. “I just didn’t want to be alone.”

He nodded, seeming to understand. His eyes became soft, but he still looked terribly confused.

She turned her face back to the fire. She couldn’t get the image of him standing there next to Joffrey out of her head. But it was accurate. He was always there. Just staring straight ahead, never looking at her when they beat her. She always wondered why. She wondered so many things that had happened in the past with him.

She turned her head back to him, sure that she was going about this the wrong way. But she had always wondered.

“Do you ever feel guilty?” Something flashed across his eyes. She went on. “For doing the things he told you to?”

She heard the click of his teeth as he clenched his jaw. His grey eyes turned stormy. His hands turned to fists on his knees. He knew who she was talking about. Now she regretted asking in the first place.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

He shook his head, and took a breath, ignoring her apology. “It wasn’t until later that I started to regret it. The rest, before, I didn’t care.”

“What changed?”

He seemed reluctant to answer. But he did anyway. “He got worse. He became king. And-” He stopped.

“And, what?”

“And then you were there.” Sansa closed her eyes. He went on, his voice suddenly became as sharp as steel. “And he hurt you. They beat you.” He huffed a breath through his nose. “And that is what I feel guilty for. For not stopping them. For not killing them all when they hurt you.”

She opened her eyes. “I watched you, you know. Whenever it happened.” His eyes crinkled at the corners, and his mouth was a straight line. “For some reason, my eyes just found you. You always stood there. Silent as the grave. Staring straight ahead, seeing nothing. And all I heard in my head were your words. ‘Give him what he wants.’ And so I did. I stopped fighting, stopped crying. And soon enough, I guess he tired of watching me in pain.”

“Not for long.” He growled.

Sansa stilled, completely. She knew what he meant. They never talked about it. She never had wanted to. She took a deep breath and decided that there was no better time than now.

“How did you get there? That night? Meryn Trant was there when he came.”

“Fucking Meryn Trant.” He mumbled under his breath, but she still heard him. He stood and walked to the hearth. He seemed to be deep in thought. He paced slowly, in front of the fire. When he stopped, he was half turned to her, she could see the scarred side of his face from the way he stood, the way he looked into the fire. He turned to her. “You’re alright, talking about this? You’re sure?”

She nodded her chin into her knees. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “I was off at the time. Drinking instead of sleeping. Going back to my room that late, I had to pass Joff’s. The door was open. No one inside. He and Margaery hadn’t been spending every night together, but he always stayed there. And I don’t know how, but, I knew when I saw it. He’d been complaining about Margaery for weeks, not being able to get pregnant and all. I just knew.”

Sansa was frozen in her chair. Hanging on every word. She could feel her palms start to clam up. Sandor went on. “I couldn’t get there fast enough. When I saw Trant standing outside your room I knew. I hoped I wasn’t too late.” Sansa felt chills through her body, it made her shake. She gripped harder onto her legs. “Somehow - I don’t know how – I convinced him that I would take over. And he left. I was ready to bust down the door, and that’s when he called for Trant. And he stood there. Waiting for me to hold you down.” Sansa’s eyes filled with tears. He could see her. She couldn’t help it, the tears fell. He reached out his hand to her for a second, but seemed to think better of it. He clenched his fist before beginning again. “I tried to tell you. I tried to let you know somehow that I wasn’t going to hurt you. I didn’t know how I was going to do it, but then you had the candle stick in your hand. When he touched you-” He stopped. His teeth clicked again when he clenched his jaw. “I’m sorry I didn’t do it sooner. Knock him out. I’m sorry for that.” She felt herself shake her head. “When I pulled him off, when he was on the ground.” He breathed. “It took everything in me, not to kill him right then.”

He stared into the fire. Seething. Remembering.

Sansa found herself mumbling into her knees. “‘No one would hurt you again, or I’d kill them’.”

He turned and squinted his eyes at her. “What?”

Sansa blinked. She spoke slowly. “The night you came for me. The battle of the Blackwater. That’s what you told me.”

He sat back in the chair and ran a hand over his face. “Sansa.” She felt a pang in her stomach. He hadn’t said her name in a long time. “I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

 _“_ Forgive yourself? Forgive yourself for what?”

“Hurting you. Scaring you. And not taking you away when I should have.”

 _What?_ “Sandor. You- you _did scare_ me. But you didn’t hurt me.”

He sat forward in the chair. His eyes were as cold, as hard as stone. His voice as sharp as steel. “Don’t lie to me. I’ll never forget that night, no matter how drunk I was. Here I was, telling you that I would protect you and the next minute I have a knife at your throat.”

He stared into her. She didn’t move.

“You didn’t hurt me.” She said again. It was true. “And if you had taken me then, where would we be now?” She shrugged and wiped her palms under her eyes. “It all worked out, didn’t it?”

He tilted his head, questioning her. She swallowed. She couldn’t believe she was going to say what she had been keeping such a close secret for the last few years.

“I _was_ afraid, you know. Afraid that you had left. That you wouldn’t be there the next day. But you were.” He squinted his eyes at her again. “Do you know what I did?”

He shook his head. She wanted to look away when she told him. But she had a feeling he already knew. I have to tell him. _I have to look at him when I tell him this._

She dug her fingers into her calloused palm. “You left your bloody cloak.” Her heart was beating in her ears. “I crawled under it and slept on the floor.”

She watched him. He blinked. She watched his neck as he swallowed hard. He said nothing.

“I’ve kept it. You know that. But I lied to you.” Her jaw was starting to shake. He still hadn’t moved. She took another breath to calm herself. “Whenever I would wake up from a nightmare, like the one I had tonight, I would find it. I would take it out of my trunk, wrap it over my shoulders and sleep under it.” She laughed, nervously, under her breath. “It’s the only way I was able to get back to sleep.”

He still hadn’t moved. His eyes were wide and he stared at her. He looked like a statue.

She rubbed her hands over her eyes, suddenly completely exhausted. “Seven hells. You must think I’m mad.” She looked at him again. “I can’t imagine what it sounds like.”

Her legs were beginning to cramp in the position she was in. She put her feet to the floor and bent over, resting her elbows on her knees. She put her head in her hands. _Gods. Why isn’t he saying anything? I’ve truly lost it haven’t I?_ She imagined what would happen in the morning. He wouldn’t be at her door. He wouldn’t be in his room or in the yard with Rickon. And when she would ask where he was, they will say, ‘I think I saw him riding off in the middle of the night on that horse of his. Looked scared out of his wits, he did.’

She sniffed. And looked up at him. He was staring at the floor. At her feet it almost looked like.

“Sandor. You have to understand. You were the only one who was honest with me about the real world. What people were really like. How to protect myself.” She sat up, stared at him. Willing him to look at her. “You’re the only one who never hurt me. You kept me safe. And I guess I thought that having your cloak would keep the nightmares at bay.” She shrugged. “And it did.”

Finally, he looked up at her. He still looked confused. But his eyes were soft, like a summer fog.

He cleared his throat. “I haven’t seen you blush in a while.” His mouth picked up at the corner. “I’ve missed it.”

Sansa looked down. She didn’t even notice, but now she could feel the heat on her cheeks, her neck, her ears.

She sighed and sat back in the chair. They sat in silence for a while. It was strange, she felt like there was still more to say. Like she was waiting for him to respond about the cloak. But he didn’t. It just seemed like he was happy he knew about it. After a while of staring into the fire, she felt her eyes get heavy.

“I’m tired.” She told him.

She heard him breath in, and out. “Do you want me to bring you back to your room?”

Sansa looked down. She still didn’t want to be alone. More than that, she wanted to be around him. She shook her head.

“Alright.” He said quietly. He seemed to be waiting for her to do something. To say something. But she just lifted her legs into the chair and curled up as best she could. She could already feel herself starting to drift off before she even got comfortable.

 

When she woke up in the morning, she was in her bed. The first thing she noticed in the light coming from the window was the white cloak draped over her shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not even a distant, faint scent of lemons. I sorry. But this needed to happen!


	63. Chapter 63

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA from yours truly, FancyKid:
> 
> I am happy to announce that my friends Direwaggle42 and Jennilynn 411 have started writing their own fic!!  
> It's called 'Stars Over Essos' and there is a link at the end of this chapter because I'm dumb and don't know how to put a link in the notes. (if anyone knows, wanna clue me in??)
> 
> So its a Modern AU, which I so very rarely read because I like to see writers stay as true to the characters as possible. Somehow these two do just that. And its figgen incredible. I highly suggest that you run over there and read that damn chapter as soon as possible.
> 
> For some reason, they've agreed to let me be their beta. All that really means is that I get to read if before anyone else and tell them how awesome it is. Because it really is very awesome.
> 
> WHAT ARE YOU STILL DOING! GO READ IT! (before or after this chapter, as long as you read both hehe)
> 
> That concludes this public service announcement.

Sandor

He didn’t know what she was doing there. He almost expected her to yell at him, scold him for what happened in the woods. But then she was shaking. He wanted to take her and wrap her up in his arms. To hold her tight against him until it stopped, until she calmed down. He wasn’t expecting the kinds of questions she asked. He never expected the conversation they had.

And then she told him the truth about his cloak.

Every word she said felt like a punch to the gut. Another nail in his coffin. _She’s going to kill me._

He watched her, there in the chair that he barely fit in, curled up like a cat in a corner. _She already has._

She fell asleep, fast. He waited, watching her. He waited for her to wake up screaming from another nightmare. The fact that she had nightmares from her time in King’s Landing made him sick. Made him want to go back to that night and rip Joff’s head right off of his neck with his bare hands.

Instead, he just watched her and waited until his eyes started to droop.

He thought that if they ever talked about these things, that they wouldn’t be able to talk at all after it. That she would be so horrified and disgusted remembering him being there for all of the times that gave her nightmares. But by the way she slept, it seemed the opposite. The more he thought about it, the better he felt about it. It felt different. Like the air was finally clear between them. Like there was nothing left unspoken.

When she looked good and out, he got up. He slowly lifted her up into his arms and held her against his chest. She hummed as he shifted her, but she didn’t wake up.

He opened the door and made sure that no one was in the hall. He moved in the quiet and counted the doors in the darkness. Hers was left wide open. She must have left in a rush. He walked in and closed the door behind him. His eyes had to adjust to the complete darkness. He moved toward where he knew her bed was. He could just make it out when he got there. As slowly as he could, he put her back in her bed. She murmured something, but it was too quiet, and she was still sleeping. The blankets were a mess. He did the best he could to straighten it out and pull it up over her shoulders.

He wanted to stay. He wanted to crawl under the covers with her and hold her close. He wanted to feel the warmth of her. He wanted the fire of her hair to be the first thing he saw when he woke up. But that wasn’t right.

He had an idea. The last he knew, it was in the trunk. He felt around for it at the end of the bed and opened the lid. He felt delicate fabrics at the top. _Fuck. What would she do if she woke up and saw me digging through her small clothes?_ He moved his hand down to the bottom of the trunk and felt the familiar wool. He pulled it out, careful not to spill any of her other things. He shook it out in the dark and laid it the cloak on top of the blanket, across her shoulders.

 

The next day he couldn’t stop thinking of seeing her in his room. Shaking. Crying. Sleeping.

She was quiet all day. So was he. He wondered what she thought about. He wouldn’t ask. They didn’t sneak off together anywhere. He didn’t know if he really wanted to anyway. He didn’t know what he would say, what he would do. A waste of another day. But he couldn’t imagine kissing her in the same way he had been. Not after last night.

He watched her all day. He thought about her when he was with Rickon. When he walked her down to dinner, he had to stand behind her to fit by others passing in the hall. Her hair was pulled back on the top, braided. The rest of her hair laid freely behind her. Her dress looked soft. It flowed out behind her as she walked. He couldn’t help it. He reached out his hand and felt it. It _was_ soft. He moved it in his fingers, just quickly, before dropping it again. She didn’t even notice.

When he walked her back to her room, he didn’t know what to do or say. It looked like she wanted to say something. But she didn’t. She bit her lip and avoided his eye. He stood there, waiting for her. She just sighed.

“Goodnight Sandor.”

 _That’s it?_ He blinked. “Goodnight.”

She closed the door on him. He heard her lock it. He stood there for a moment, not wanting to believe that was where she was going to leave it.

Sandor walked back to his room. _Maybe she’s had enough after last night. Maybe she just wanted to get all of that out. Maybe we’re done._

He closed his door behind him. _Good. Not good for either of us. Poison it would be if it went any further_. He kicked off his boots, shrugged out of his jerkin, loosened his tunic underneath. He went to the table to pour himself a cup of wine. There was a knock at the door.

Sandor’s hands froze. _Can’t be._ He put down the cup and turned for the door. It was only a few minutes since he left her. He cringed as he went to open the door. _Better not be Mal._

It wasn’t.

Sansa looked frustrated. Her brow was furrowed as she stormed past him into his room as soon as he opened the door. She stood there, with her back to him. She was in a robe and nightshift again. Bare feet. Her arms were crossed. _What is she doing to me?_

Sandor sighed and walked over her. He stood in front of her facing her.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

She stared at his chest. Her jaw was clenched. After a moment, she lifted her chin to look up at him. Her eyes were like ice, piercing through him.

“I have one more question.” _Shit. What could it be now?_ He didn’t say anything. She breathed hard out of her nose. “Why did you stay? The night of the battle? You were so set on leaving. Why did you stay?”

 _Seven hells. Doesn’t she know?_ He shrugged. “Because you asked me to.”

In an instant, her eyes changed, the ice melting in spring.

And then she was on him. She jumped up and wrapped her arms around his neck, her mouth crashed into his. She held herself there for a moment as she kissed him. It took him a second to realize what was happening before he snaked his arms around the small of her back, crushing her to him. She took the lead, opening his mouth and slipping her tongue between his teeth. Usually she laughed, giggled into his mouth. But she didn’t this time. She was breathing heavy, hard, deeply. He heard himself groan at the taste of her. _Fuck. How does she taste like lemons? She didn’t have anything to eat with lemons today!_ He wanted to lay her on the ground and take her right there. Instead he put her feet on the ground. _This can’t happen_. He tried to pull away, but he was too weak with her arms around his neck. She kissed him even harder and brought her left hand down to his chest. She pushed him backward, and he let her, not leaving her mouth.

He had a flashback of a similar memory. A different room. A completely different girl. The back of his knees hit his bed. She pushed him again. He lost his balance and sat.

Her hands were on his shoulders, his fell to her hips. He tried to not grip into her so hard. He didn't want her to bruise again.

She was taller than him, where she stood. He tilted his head up to her and she bent hers down. Her hair fell around his face as she kissed him again. More slowly, more deeply. He felt her hands move up his neck and onto his face. He wanted to pull her away, but he just tugged her closer. Her hands were on his face. One on either side. She moved her thumbs across his cheek and what was left of the other one. She pulled away, but kept her face close. She stared into his eyes. She watched her fingers as they moved across his face, good and bad side. It felt like she was ripping a hole through his chest. She sighed and smiled. She kissed him once, dropped her hands and pulled his away. She stood up straight and worked at the tie on her robe.

He grabbed her hand.

“Sansa.”

She looked down at him and shook his hand away. He couldn’t move. She untied the robe, pulled it over her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. All that was between his eyes and the rest of her was the thin fabric veil of her nightshift.

In the firelight, he could still see a bit of the shape of her underneath. He stopped breathing. _I’m dead. She’s done it. She’s gone and killed me._

She moved closer to him. He couldn’t move. She put her hands on his shoulders. She lifted her knee and brought it up to the bed next to his. She pushed down on his shoulders and lifted the rest of herself up. She was straddling him. On his bed. _In a fucking nightshift_. She stared into him, through him.

Her hands moved down his shoulders, down his arms until she got to his hands. She lifted his hands and brought them around to hold her. Once his hands were in place, she kissed him again.

He let his hands move over her body as they kissed. His left moved up, feeling under her breast. She sighed into his mouth. His right hand moved down her side, over her hip, to rest on her thigh, where the fabric bunched up and ended. He gripped the cloth with his fingers and moved his thumb underneath. Her skin was as smooth as silk.

She gasped, lightly when he did. Barely a breath. But she pulled he mouth from his. Everything in him told him to stop her. But he just let her do it. She kissed the left side of his face. She moved his hair out of the way and did it again. She kissed where his ear used to be. She kissed his jaw, where the white of bone peeked through his scorched skin. She kissed down his neck. And even though he could barely feel it, just the thought of her there turned his mind into mud. She pulled down the collar of his tunic and kissed his collarbone.

Her hands continued to move down. She grazed her fingers over his chest, his stomach. They stopped at the edge of his breeches. She moved he mouth back up to his, but he slowed. _Stop her. Stop her now._

She began to tug at the laces. The back of her hand touched him through the cloth as she did, and she didn’t even flinch.

“Stop.” He mumbled into her mouth.

She didn’t.

His hands on her froze. He pulled his mouth away.

“Don’t.”

She smiled crookedly at him, _like the wolf she is._ “Why?”

_Why? Why you fucking dog? Why are you trying to stop her from doing what she wants?_

He felt his breeches loosen around his hips _. No. Not like this. She’s not mine._

His hands were fast and he let go of her and pulled her hands away from him. She tried to fight him, but he held her wrists in his hands, locked tight.

He leaned away from her. “Sansa.” His voice was hard.

Her brow furrowed again. “Sandor.” She tried to imitate his tone.

“This can’t happen.” She tried to pull her wrists out of his grip, but he was unmoving. “Stop it.”

Sansa looked at him. Her eyes were hard, but he watched them soften. She gave in. _Finally, thank the fucking gods_. She slumped her shoulders and sat. On him. _Fucking hell._

He grabbed her by the hips and lifted her back up. “Not really helping.”

It took her a minute, but it clicked. Her mouth popped open in a small ‘o’.

She scooted her knees away from him and stood back on the floor. His hands dropped away from her, at his sides.

She looked to the side, walked to the bed and plopped down next to him.

“You can’t make me leave.”

He turned to her. “What?”

“You can physically stop me from trying, but you’re not going to make me leave. I’m not going back to my room.”

Sandor laughed under his breath and pulled his hand through his hair.

“Fine. I won’t take you back to your room. But why?”

She brought her legs up on the bed, crossed them and tucked them under her. “I don’t want to be alone.”

She sighed. “That’s not quite true, is it?” It looked like she was talking to herself. She turned back to him. “I want to sleep in here. Next to you.”

Seven hells. “What? And what happens when Shae comes to your room and sees your bed empty. She’ll raise the alarms and half the castle will be out looking for you.”

She shook her head. “No. I wake up early. Believe me.” She put her hand on his. “Please?”

Sandor sighed and against his better judgement, he nodded.

She leaned into him. “Thank you.” And she kissed him. Just once. Her smile. _Looks like I invented the fucking sun_. He stood up and so did she. She pulled the furs down at the corner. Pulled the blanket back. He watched her climb into his bed. She wrapped herself up in the covers and sighed. _Not going to get any sleep, lying next to that._

He turned from her and pulled at the neck of his tunic. Before he could get it over his head, he froze.

“What is it?” She asked. He turned back to her. She was holding herself up, on her elbows.

Sandor sighed. “Nothing. I just usually sleep-“ He looked down at his clothes.

“Oh.” He could see her face become red. “So do I.”

 _Of course she fucking sleeps naked. As if I didn’t have enough to stop myself from thinking about already_. He looked at her. “Best not.”

She nodded. “Best not.”

He walked around to the other side of the bed. He felt her eyes on him the whole time. He pulled back the covers and climbed underneath them. He laid on his back and folded his hands under his head.

The bed was already warm from the heat of her. He saw her turn on her side toward him from the corner of his eye.

“Sandor.”

“Hmm?” What now?

“I have to get you a new bed.”

He turned his head toward her. “Why?”

She smiled again. She brought her knees up to her chest and bundled the blankets in her hands under her chin. “Its too small. You’re feet are hanging off the edge.” She covered her mouth as she giggled.

He looked down at his feet. He flexed them under the blankets and that made her laugh harder.

He felt himself chuckle. “I guess I’ve never had a bed big enough then. I’ve always slept with my feet over the edge.”

She reached her hand out and grabbed his arm by the elbow. “No you haven’t.” She laughed harder as she gripped onto his arm.

Sandor felt himself smiling like a fool. He turned toward her. He reached out around her, put his hand on the small of her back and pulled her close to him. With his other hand he put a finger over her lips. “Shh. Or else I’ll have to carry you back to your room again.”

Her laughing went back to a giggle, until it faded away. Her smile stayed.

_I’m lying in bed with Sansa Stark. Sansa fucking Stark._

He shook his head.

“What?” She bit her lip.

He moved his face to hers and kissed her. He felt himself pull her closer. Her hand moved to his chest. She slid her knees down, so there was nothing between them. He felt her lick his lip and he froze. He moved his hand down her body until it hooked under her knees. He pulled them up, back between them. He let go of her, and turned to his back again. _Don’t look at her. Just don’t look at her._

He took a deep breath and put his hands under his head again.

“Goodnight, little bird.” He closed his eyes.

He heard her sigh. He felt her pull the covers up higher. “Goodnight Sandor.”

 

When he woke up, the bed was empty.

_Was that a dream? That couldn’t have actually happened._

He sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. And then he saw it. _Where the fuck did she get that?_

Sandor roared. He laughed loudly, a real laugh, from deep in his chest. He hoped she heard him from down the hall.

 

On her pillow, there was a perfectly ripe, yellow lemon.

* * *

[Stars Over Essos](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4205673/chapters/9503454)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn you Sandor Clegane and your honorable ways!!
> 
> Alright so no lemon juice baahaha. But look how close they got!! Just think of how close actual lemon juice is!  
> Ok I really am evil aren't I?  
> Oh and the lemon on the pillow idea was given to me through comment collaboration by AngryTimeLadyClara and Jennilynn411.
> 
> That's all I've got for today y'all!  
> I've got my friends from school coming over so it might be rude if I just sit here and type the whole time.  
> But guess what we're drinking -  
> Pink LEMONade with cherry vodka. Also I made the Little Bird's Lemon Cakes again, but I had to use gluten free flour and they ain't that great.
> 
> When they were baking my mom goes, 'ah nothing smells better than lemon.'  
> I giggled like a fool and I didn't even care.
> 
> And oh yea - WOOOHOOOOO 100,000 words!!!!
> 
> Have you read Stars Over Essos yet?
> 
> If yes, I know its amazing right?!  
> If no, WHY?!?!?!
> 
> UPDATE: I sat down an hour ago to write another chapter and I still have nothing written. I'm tragically uninspired. Unfortunately, I have a graduation party tonight, a bachelorette party in New York tomorrow and a presentation to prepare for Monday. I doubt I'll be able to post anything and I wanna punch myself in the nose for being so lame right now. But I would rather wait and give you guys something good then quick post something now and have it suck.
> 
> Ugh. I'll see ya in a few days guys. :(


	64. Chapter 64

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> little tiny baby one

Sansa

Sansa woke up with a start. She wasn’t in her room. For a moment, she panicked, thinking she was back in King’s Landing. But then she remembered that she didn’t have another nightmare. Once her mind was clear, her ears pricked up at the sounds coming from next to her. She sat up. He lay next to her, his arm crossed over his eyes, his mouth wide open, snoring. She put her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. Going down the length of the bed, he stacked up furs and extra pillows, as a barrier in between him. _I wonder when he did that_. Sansa fell asleep fast once she was settled in his bed.

Looking at him now, as he slept, Sansa felt a strange tingling in her tummy. Like she felt last night as she held his face and kissed him. As many times as she looked at him, kissed him before, she never had that feeling. She put her hand on her stomach as if to push it away.

The morning outside was grey, still early enough. She didn’t want to leave. She wanted to push the pillows and furs to the ground and curl up under his arm. Reluctantly, she got up, slowly as to not move the bed and wake him. She found her robe and slipped it on. She padded over to the door and opened it. She peeked her head out. The gods were merciful. It was completely empty and still dark. She quickly went out and pulled the door closed behind her.

Sansa didn’t want to go back to her room, not yet. She made her way down to the kitchen for an early breakfast. Save Anna a trip. She was still barefoot and the cold of the floor crept up into her body. She was thankful once she finally got to the warmth of the kitchens.

Gage and two women were there, preparing a variety of foods for the morning.

“Princess.” He said. “Lovely seeing you this early. What can I do you for?”

Sansa sighed. She wasn’t very hungry.

“Just something light would be fine, thank you.”

She pulled up a stool to a free space on the counter and waited while he prepared a tray for her.

She put her chin in her hands and stared off into the hearth. She didn’t know what came over her last night. When he brought her to her room, she didn’t know what to say to him, so she said nothing. She locked the door behind her and waited for his footsteps to disappear. She took off her dress as quickly as she could. She paced the room, just for a moment before realizing what she had to do. She had to ask him one more thing. She quickly threw a nightshift over her and wrapped her robe around herself before running out the door.

He looked terribly shocked to see her again. She couldn’t imagine what she must have looked like. But she had to ask him. He came around to her, concern plastered on his marred face.

“Why did you stay? The night of the battle? You were so set on leaving. Why did you stay?”

He looked so confused. He shook his head and shrugged. “Because you asked me to.”

As if it was obvious. As if it would be ridiculous to ever wonder another reason. In an instant, she felt her stomach drop, and it was replaced by that tingling feeling.

Sansa didn’t know what came over her, all of a sudden she was kissing him. She wanted to wrap her legs around him, cling to him, but her legs were trapped under her robe and nightshift. She found herself pushing him back to the bed. He didn’t try to stop her. She looked at him, held his face in her hands. Kissed him. He didn’t stop her. She found herself taking off her robe. He tried feebly to stop her. She climbed up on top of him. She didn’t think. She just let her hands, her mouth, go where they wanted to. She could feel his hands on her, but it wasn’t until his thumb traced the skin of her thigh that she shivered. It brought her back to where she was. And suddenly she knew what she wanted. And that’s when he finally stopped her.

 _What came over me? If he didn’t stop me, I would have given him my maidenhead. I wouldn’t be a virgin anymore._ The thought scared her, but not in the way she thought it might.

Her thoughts drifted to Ser Gawen. _It’s his to take._ Sansa gulped. She knew that’s what was supposed to happen. But it just didn’t feel right, thinking of it that way. Being with Sandor, _that_ felt right. When he stopped her, she knew she wasn’t going to be able to go back to her room. Not alone, anyway. She was so happy when he let her stay. Even though it was so early in the day, she couldn’t remember a recent time where she felt so well rested.

Her mind was still on Sandor when Gage slid a tray in front of her. He gave her a soft-boiled egg and a piece of hot bread smeared with blackberries and honey. There was a cup of steaming mint tea that warmed her belly and felt like it helped to settle it. She ate the bread before turning to the egg. She broke it and saw that the yolk was perfectly yellow. Almost like a lemon. She looked up, and searched around the room. Far in the corner with the other fruits was a small bushel of lemons. _I’ll have to make sure I pass Sandor’s room on the way back._ She finished her egg and thanked Gage. His back was to her so she ran to the corner and snuck a lemon away under the sleeve of her robe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM BAAAAACK!!!! Oh man I missed you guys so much.  
> What a friggen weekend. I apologize for any comments I may have responded to on Saturday night. We were at a dueling piano bar in a cellar in New York and it was pretty awesome. Its two guys on pianos and a drummer and you have to like bid on songs that you want them to play. If you want them to stop a song then you can request another and pay a higher amount than that song was bought for. The amount of times people paid to make them stop playing Taylor Swift was hysterical. And I just have to go on record saying my friend and I were the first people to ever request The Smiths. Just saying. But it was fun. 
> 
> WE SHOULD ALL GO AND HAVE SOME FLAMING WIGHTS! (if you haven't read Stars Over Essos yet, you're not invited.)
> 
> Anyway, yesterday, I was working on this project on Jonathan Swift that I have to present at tonight's class. SO. LAME.
> 
> So, Sansa's thoughts. Yes.  
> More from the little bird later tonight. Gotta do something to take up the time during class.
> 
> UPDATE:  
> I LIED AGAIN! I KNOW HOW GEORGE FEELS NOW!! I will have more tomorrow I promise. It's just taking me soooo loooong.


	65. Chapter 65

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU ANGRYTIMELADYCLARA AND YOUR PREGNANCY BRAIN  
> for inspiring me with the setting of this scene!!!!

Sansa

By the time Shae and the others got to Sansa, she was already halfway into her dress. She was reaching around her back trying to lace up the dress.

“What are you doing?” Shae rushed over to her. “You’ll pull you shoulder out again.”

Sansa moved her hands out of the way when Shae swatted at her. She couldn’t help the smile on her face. She kept picturing Sandor, holding on to the barrier he made when she put the lemon on his pillow.

“What are you so cheerful about this morning Princess?” Mallory asked.

Wouldn’t you like to know Mal? Sansa thought. But she pushed the thought away. “I’m going to ride into Winter Town this morning. Going to look at some toys for the twins.”

Shae yanked the last tie on her dress, pulling it tight.

“I just remembered,” Shae said. “I’ve been meaning to go into town. Can I come with you?”

Sansa froze. She was using the trip as an excuse to be alone with Sandor for the morning. But she hadn’t really had a chance to speak to Shae in a while, either. Sansa sighed. “Of course, Shae.”

When the other girls left, Shae batted Sansa on the back of the head.

“Shae!”

Shae stood in front of her, her arms crossed. “What are you trying to sneak away with him for? A quiet morning at the inn? Hmm?”

“ _Shae_.” Sansa felt the heat rush to her cheeks. “No. Of course not, don’t be ridiculous.”

“Well, whatever you planned, it’s not going to happen. Not with me there.”

Sansa remembered what happened in the wolfswood. Sansa swallowed when she realized she _was_ hoping for that again.

“Shae. You were the one that told me to do something about this. To talk to him and figure it out.” Sansa sighed. “Well, we did figure it out.” She bit her lip. “We’re going to, just, spend as much time together as possible – before,” She trailed off with the look on Shae’s face.

“So things have certainly changed since we last talked about it.” Sansa didn’t say anything. “You said you didn’t love him. Did that change?”

Sansa shook her head.

“You said you didn’t want to sleep with him. Did that change?”

Sansa felt her eyes widen at the question. It had changed hadn’t it? She thought of herself, last night pulling at his breeches. Her face felt like it was on fire.

“Sansa, you didn’t.”

“No!”

Shae grabbed her arm. “What is it then?

So she told her. Told her about last night. What she had done. How he had stopped her. How he had let her stay to sleep there.

When she finished, Shae’s eyes were wide.

“What? What are you thinking?”

Shae shook her head. “Well, I’m obviously not one to judge. I’m just-“ She stopped.

“Shae. Tell me.”

“I’m just nervous Sansa. For you. For the both of you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“He won’t hurt me Shae.”

Shae scrunched up her face. “I know that. That’s not the kind of hurt I’m talking about.”

Sansa knew what she meant. She didn’t want to talk about it anymore. She’d already been thinking about it enough. But she decided that she didn’t care. She felt safe with Sandor. She knew him. She trusted him. If she wanted to be with him, then that is what she would do.

When she was ready, Shae still had to go to her room and get ready for the ride in the cold.

Shae opened the door. Sandor was standing there.

“Ughh.” Shae moaned and slumped her shoulders. She pushed past him and into the hall.

Sansa watched Sandor’s eyes as they squinted after her.

“Winter Town?”

Sandor turned back to her and nodded.

Sansa looked from side to side. “Shae’s coming.”

Sandor sighed. “She knows then?”

Sansa nodded. “The bruise, remember.”

Sandor breathed in through his teeth like he was stung. “Ah.” He watched her as she grabbed her fur cloak.

She felt his eyes on her as she draped it around her shoulders. She walked up to him in the door frame as she fumbled with the clasp at her neck.

He bit back a smile watching her, but she still couldn’t get it. “Here, girl.” He reached out the short distance between them and moved her hands away. She felt a small smile on her lips as she looked up at him as he clasped it for her. He looked down at her when he did and then moved his hands to smooth out the cloak at her shoulders. His lip picked up at the corner. She held back a giggle, remembering the blanket barrier he made in between them last night.

“Excuse me, Princess. Sandor.”

Sandor jerked his hands away and Sansa backed up into her room.

Mallory was standing in the hall right outside the room. “I’ve just, forgotten something.”

Sansa’s face was on fire. She was sure of it. “Of course, Mallory go ahead.”

She avoided looking at Sandor as she moved out in the hall to wait for Shae. _Gods. If anyone found out about us, Mallory may just be the worst._

* * *

“I thought we could go through the market first. Then have an early meal at the Smoking Log perhaps?”

Sandor agreed, but Shae gave a noncommittal grunt. Sansa still couldn’t get used to seeing Shae up here in the cold. She wore a fur lined cloak, like Sansa and Sandor, but Sansa knew she had on a thick woolen cloak underneath.

“Shae, don’t complain. You didn’t have to come you know. What do you need in town anyway, you never said.”

“I- its- none of your business.” Shae stammered.

Sansa giggled and ignored the glare she got from Shae. She and Shae were leading the way on horseback. She turned her head around and smiled. Sandor was behind them on Stranger. She wished they were alone, but she had to admit, Shae was fun to be around, even with her moods.

Soon, they made it to Winter Town. Sandor and Shae had never seen it before as their large party had to go around when they first arrived to Winterfell.

They left the horses tied up at the inn and set off on foot. It was strange to be with the two of them. Almost like they were back on their journey on the Kingsroad.

The three picked their way through the market. Sansa smiled to the people who greeted her as Princess. Sansa was glad to see how normal life was here. Almost as if the war never happened. There were a group of children playing in the middle of the path. Sandor grabbed a boy by the shoulders as he came whirling around and almost ran into Sansa. The boy’s eyes widened and he gasped before running away.

She’d almost forgotten how fearful people were of him. His size for one. But mostly, of course, for his face. Sansa felt an ache in her heart at the thought. _How could people be afraid of the face that I look forward to seeing every morning?_

They finally made their way to the shop that sold some toys for children. A man was behind the counter carving a piece of wood. He put his work down when he saw her.

“Princess.” The man bowed his head toward her and came around the counter. “I never thought I’d see _you_ in my dusty old shop.” He was comely, in a simple way. His dark beard covered most of his face, but his dark eyes were alight.

Sansa smiled. “Well of course. My niece and nephew are in need of some new toys.”

A smile lit up the man’s face. “It would be an honor, Princess.” He gestured his hand toward his supplies. “Please.”

“Thank you.” She passed him and went further into the shop, Sandor and Shae behind her.

There were a lot of wood carved toys. Different animals. Figures of men and ladies. Some games. There were soft-made toys as well. Puppets. Bears. Wolves. Sansa was happy that she did not see any lions. There were some dolls too. Sansa went back to the animals and picked up two wolves. They were soft, filled with straw. Both grey with black button eyes and moveable limbs. She smiled picturing little Ned and Lyanna playing with them.

She looked up and saw Shae talking to the man by the door. His hands were clasped in front of him and there was a smile on his face. Shae was fiddling with the sleeve of her dress. _Is that- is she blushing? Shae can blush?_ Sansa bit back a giggle and turned around to Sandor.

He was standing in front of the wooden figurines.

“Sandor, what do you think about these? Little Grey Winds of their own.” Sandor was staring at the toys on the table. The shop was small. She didn’t know how he couldn’t have heard her. She cleared her throat. “Sandor? For the twins?”

He looked up at her and blinked. His face was blank. His eyes were cold. He didn’t look at her so much as through her.

Sansa swallowed. She was about to ask what was wrong when the shop owner came over to her. “Ah, little wolf pups for the wolf pups then hmm?”

Sansa snapped out of her thoughts. “Yes. I think they’ll love them.”

Sansa paid for the wolves, thanked the man and went to leave. Sandor was at the door, waiting for her, but Shae still remained.

“Shae? Are you coming? The Smoking Log?”

Shae nodded earnestly. “I’ll meet you there.” Sansa looked over to the man behind the counter, who was looking down, smiling at his work.

“Alright then.” Sansa turned and passed where Sandor was standing before, the wooden figurines. And then she saw it. A wooden knight.

* * *

“Just tea for now, please.”

Sansa and Sandor were seated at a small booth in the alehouse. The owner was more pleased to see her than the toy maker was. He said something along the lines of the Smoking Log not being fit for Princess’s but she hushed him away as they sat down.

He came back with their tea and Sansa wrapped her hands around the mug, eager to rid the chill she had from outside. She looked across the way at Sandor. His hands were on the table, but he didn’t touch the tea. He was looking behind her. She turned her head to follow his eyes. He was staring at the fire burning in the hearth.

Sandor hadn’t said a word since they left the toy shop. She could see plainly that he was somewhere else in his mind. From the way he looked at the fire now, from seeing the wooden knight in the shop, she knew what he must have been thinking about. She glanced around the room. It was almost empty due to the hour of the morning. She turned back to Sandor and reached her hand a short distance across the table to his. Before she could get there, he pulled his hands back and onto his lap.

Sansa sat back in the booth, her spine straight against the wood. She sighed. She was nervous to talk to him, to speak to him about what he was thinking, but she had to try.

“Sandor. Will you not speak to me?”

She watched him close his eyes, just for a moment longer than a blink. When he looked at her, his eyes were still cold. Distant. “What would you like to speak about?” His voice was rough, but barely more than a whisper.

Sansa leaned in and whispered back. “I saw what you were looking at. In the shop.”

He didn’t say anything.

“The wooden knight.” She tried again.

Sandor sighed. “I know what you’re trying to do. Don’t.”

Sansa swallowed. “We haven’t spoken about him.” Again, he didn’t say anything. “Your brother.”

Something flashed across his eyes. If she hadn’t been staring so intently she might have missed it. But what it was, she couldn’t say for sure. Anger? Sadness? Hurt? As fast as it came, it was gone again and his face tuned back to the cold mask it had been since he saw the toy.

“Aye.” He said. “Why would we?”

“Because-“ She swallowed again. Suddenly her throat was very dry. She took a sip of her tea before starting again. “Because Robb killed him.”

“I know.”

“I just, I thought you, thought you might want to talk about it.”

Sandor sighed louder and grabbed his mug. “Well, I don’t.” He sipped at the hot liquid and put it down on the table, hard.

Something inside Sansa was telling her to stop. But her brain wouldn’t listen, especially when a new thought dawned on her.

“Your brother was the lord of your family’s keep.” She said more to herself than to him. She watched his jaw clench. She felt her eyes widen. _Why have I never thought about this before?_ “Sandor. You’re Lord of Clegane’s Keep.”

“Enough.” His hand was on the table, clenched as tight as his jaw. But she didn’t stop.

“Sandor. What- what are you doing? Here with me? You’re the Lord of a keep. You should be there. In your home!”

He slammed his fist on the table. Sansa jumped. The mugs rattled on the table, spilling a bit of the tea as they did. Sansa tucked her hands away and put her head down.

She could feel the eyes of the owner on the crown of her head and she felt a hot, embarrassing blush rush to her cheeks.

 _I pushed him._ She thought, her heart beating in her ears. _I pushed him too far._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOT DAMN THAT TOOK ME FOREVER!!!
> 
> NO CLASS TOMORROW SO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS???  
> MORE CHAPTERS!!!
> 
> but yo - Sansa's digging herself a nice little hole here. gotta pick at the scab huh? see what that gets ya! bloody fingers and an angry hound!
> 
> P.S. AngryTimeLadyClara also responsible for tiny wooden knight feels. Blame her.


	66. Chapter 66

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. Hey guys - lets. Lets just. Hey.
> 
> So lets go ahead and pretend that Sandor could possibly have a higher ranking title than canonically correct. After all, we are pretending that Robb is alive and that Tyrion is dead right?
> 
> Alright. Good talk.
> 
> With that being said - APOLOGY LEMONS, as requested by Little+Bird+addicted

 

Sandor

“Sandor!”

It was his name, more than the direwolf growling that finally stopped him.

Osha had yelled it from the side. Sandor froze. All he could see were the eyes of a boy on the ground, staring up at him in fear.

He pulled his arm back and dropped the tourney sword at his feet. He stuck out his hand, offering to help the boy up out of the mud. Shaggydog was standing over him and snapped at his hand. Sandor pulled away just in time. He watched as Rickon pushed himself onto his elbows. He got up slowly, wincing. When he stood, Sandor saw that his eyes were wet, red at the rims. He sniffed and wiped his nose with his sleeve.

Sandor thought back on what had happened. He’d been somewhere else in his mind. All he could feel was the weight of the sword in his hand. How it felt good to swing it, hard and fast, cutting through the cold air. He’d nearly forgotten his opponent was a ten year old boy. He looked at the ground. The wooden shield Rickon had on his arm was shattered into pieces.

Sandor shook his head. “Rickon, I’m sorry.”

Rickon just looked at him for a moment and shook his head. He dropped his sword into the mud and turned away, Shaggy at his heels. Sandor wiped the sweat from his brow.

“What’s gotten into you, man? He’s just a boy.” Osha had the same bewildered look on her face. She picked up the shattered remnants of the shield before following Rickon and his wolf out of the yard.

Sandor stood there for a moment, trying to clear his head, trying to figure out what had come over him. He gave up and walked to his room alone. There was a bath waiting for him. The water was lukewarm but he stripped off his sweaty clothes and got in. He sunk down under the water quickly before coming up again and starting to wash.

When he was finished, he lowered his shoulders into the water. The tub was small, as was everything to him. He had to put his feet out over the edge. He looked at his leg and saw the ruined, twisted mess of pink and puckered flesh that covered most of it. Even under it, he could still see the previous scars. The skin covering his leg was nearly as numb to the touch as his face now. But the muscle in his thigh still ached from time to time from the sword that went through it, and the arrow soon after that.

Sansa had seen his scars. More than the one on his face. She must have, when she watched him bathe in the stream. He looked down at his chest. Under the dark hair he could see the pink marks on his skin. He knew he had almost as many on his back. Scars left on him from training, from battle, from his life. He was riddled with them. He was sure Rickon would have one now. If the force he struck him with was strong enough to break his shield, he must have left a welt and cut on that arm.

He wouldn’t be surprised if Sansa would have a scar as well, from the way he treated her in the alehouse. He tried not to look at her face after he slammed his fist on the table. But when Shae came in, he let himself look. The rims of her eyes were red, but she kept her eyes down. He felt his blood turn to ice, knowing that he did that to her. He knew what he had. What he was giving up to be with her, here. He was honestly surprised that it took her so long to think of it. He hoped she never would, or if she did, that she wouldn’t care.

She’s the only one that knew the truth of what happened to him. The others were all dead. His brother. His father. But even then, she didn’t know what it was truly like for him, growing up there. She didn’t know why he decided to leave and never to return. He tried not to ever think of it himself. Seeing that wooden knight gave him no choice. But he would rather be taken by the others then talk to anyone about it, especially her.

He didn’t apologize for what he did. And she didn’t try to say anything after it. They were all silent on the way back to Winterfell. Even Shae. Back in King’s Landing, he was rough with Sansa. Always blunt and honest. What he did in the alehouse was nothing compared to that. _So why do I feel like such shit about it?_

The more he thought about it, the more he realized how much he had changed since then. When was the last time he talked to Sansa like that? When’s the last time he talked to _anyone_ like that? He dropped the soap in the water. _When is the last time I killed a man?_ He swallowed hard. It was the man who stole her away. That was it.

Wasn’t the last time he _thought_ about killing someone, though. Ramsay Bolton was one. Ser Greenboy another. And now this Glover. He felt a bit of shame for that last one. He knew he would never hurt the man. He was going to be her _husband_. Sandor put his head in his hands. Even then, it’s been so long since he felt his sword go through another man, flesh, muscle, bone, until his life spilled out of him, red and thick, through his wounds. He felt his fist close and open again at the thought. He remembered telling Sansa about killing, how it was the sweetest thing there is. He didn’t lie to her. It was. But that was then.

 _That’s not true anymore is it?_ He thought of her now. In his arms. In his bed.

_Fuck. What’s she done to me?_

Both Rickon and Sansa were silent at their dinner. He tried to ignore it, but he knew he was the reason why. She was quiet on the way back to her room. He couldn’t believe that just last night, she was throwing herself at him. That she had slept in his bed. And now here he was, dropping her off at her own room, knowing that he had fucked up yet again. Knowing that no matter what he said, he couldn’t take away the sting of his harshness from what happened in the morning.

She kept her eyes down. He wanted to grab her chin, force her to look at him. He wanted to kiss her, hard and long. He wanted to take her in his arms. He wanted to tell her how sorry he was. He wanted to sleep in her bed with her. Let her rest her head on his chest. Wake up in the morning and see her there still, not another lemon on the pillow.

But that wasn’t going to happen. None of it. She closed the door on him without a word.

* * *

Sansa

For the third time today, Sansa found herself wiping away tears that fell to her cheeks. She’d struggled out of her dress, shift and small clothes, and climbed into bed.

When she gave the wolves to the twins, it had happened again. She thought of Sandor looking at the wooden knight. She couldn’t imagine what he had been thinking. _What would he think about first? The pain? The betrayal?_

Roslin asked her what was wrong. She just smiled and passed it off as tears of happiness, being with the twins. Roslin didn’t look convinced, but thankfully, she let it go.

Sansa wrapped a fur around herself and stared into the fire.

 _Stupid. I’m the only one he ever told about that. I never should have pushed him._ She knew how he felt about his brother. That was true. She knew he was happy that he was dead.

But she never thought about what his brother left behind. Sandor’s home. By rights, it should now be his. He had to have known this. _So why would he want to be here, so far away from it, with me?_

She supposed that the quickness of her questioning may have scared him, might have been off-putting at the least. But she was just so confused. She still had so many questions. _Does he know what’s happened to it? Who is there now? Does he care?_

But she knew the Wall would fall down before she ever let herself ask him again.

She didn’t know when she fell asleep. She just knew what woke her up. She was dreaming that she was in the black cell again, banging against the door, screaming to be let out. When she woke, her cheeks were wet and her heart was racing. The pounding didn’t stop though. She sat up, and the fur fell from her shoulders. It was coming from her door. It was soft, but still loud enough to wake her up. The embers still burned in the hearth and kept the room light enough for her to get up and find a shift to throw over herself. _This can’t be him._ She lifted the latch and put her hand on the doorknob. _But who else would it be?_

She opened the door and he was there, his fist raised in the air to knock again. He dropped it when he saw her. He was in an undershirt, not tied at the top and a pair of breeches that weren’t tightened all the way. His feet were bare. His eyes were hooded, he looked exhausted.

She opened her mouth to say something, ask him why he was there. But he pushed the door out of the way. She stepped back into the room and he closed it behind him, his back to her.

“What are you-“ She started to ask.

But he turned and came at her. For a second, she thought he was going to kiss her. But he didn’t. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders. He bent down and put his face into her hair.

He breathed against her neck. “I’m sorry.”

If he wasn’t holding her there, she was sure she would have turned into a puddle on the floor.

She wound her arms around him as best she could and pulled him close. He nuzzled deeper into her neck and breathed against her spine. She was sure he could feel the goosebumps that raised along her skin. She closed her eyes, feeling him there.

She didn’t know how long they stood there, but it was long enough for her arms to start aching. She sighed and started to pull away from him. He slid his arms away from her and pulled them down her arms, resting at her hands. He moved his face away so he could look at hers. His eyes searched hers.

“I’m sorry.” He said again. He rubbed his thumbs over the backs of her hands.

She nodded. “I know.” She breathed. “It’s alright.”

His shoulders slumped at her acceptance. She let go of one hand but held onto the other as she pulled him toward her bed. She climbed onto it and he followed after her. She sat cross legged in the middle of the bed and wrapped the fur around her again. He settled himself at the end of the bed, leaning his back against one of the posts.

He wiped a hand over his eyes. “I shouldn’t have treated you like that. I know you were only trying to help.”

“It’s alright Sandor. I was wrong to push you. You don’t have to talk about it.”

He looked at her. “I do, though. I know that now.”

Sansa waited. She didn’t know what to do, what he wanted her to do or say, if anything.

He sighed and settled in against the post. “Gregor’s old steward holds the keep. I saw to it when Robb told me he had killed him.” He sniffed. “I told him I didn’t know when I was coming back. I didn’t say that I probably wouldn’t be returning.”

Sansa shook her head. “Why though Sandor? Why won’t you-“ She stopped herself. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t-“

“No. It’s alright.” He waited, looking at her. “If I’m going to tell anyone about the hell I came from, it’s going to be you.”

Sansa took a deep breath. _So this is it then. He’s going to tell me about his life._ All she ever knew was how he got his scar. That was it. And if that is what he told her, she couldn’t imagine the things that he kept secret. Suddenly Sansa was nervous to listen.

It was like he was reading her thoughts. “You know what he did to me.” She nodded. “That was, by far, the least of it.”

 _Oh no._ Sansa didn’t know if she was ready.

“My mother died of a fever, before I could remember her. At least that’s what they say. Though I don’t think I could rightly blame him for a fever.” She heard him click his teeth together, as he waited to say the next thing. “I had a sister.” _Had?_ “She was just a year younger than me.”?” He shrugged and put his hands in his lap. “I don’t know. All I know is that she was never mentioned again after it happened.”

“Sandor.” She scooted over to him. She reached out and put her hand on his leg. He flinched, but he didn’t pull away. “What happened?”

“I never got the story straight. Everything Gregor did, my father tried to cover up. But I’m pretty sure she had gotten in his way or something.” _Oh gods._ Sansa’s heart was beating in her ears.

“I don’t remember her name. I think it started with an E? Maybe? Either way, I only remember her being buried. A wind came through and the fabric covering her blew back. I could have sworn there were bruises around her neck, in the shape of fingers.”

Sansa froze. _No. Not a little girl. Not his own sister!_ But then she remembered the stories of the sack of King’s Landing. How the Mountain had thrown the baby Prince Aegon against a wall. And she realized that strangling a little girl would be nothing to him.

Sandor continued. “She was three, I think. We never talked about her again. And eventually I forgot her name.” He paused. “Two years later, he did this.” He gestured to his face. Sansa made herself nod, afraid of what was going to come next.

Sandor scratched a spot on his chin. “When I was twelve, I skipped out on a hunting trip with my father and Gregor. I tried to avoid him when I could help it. I felt no need to be out in the wilderness alone with him and a cross bow. My father didn’t think the same way though.”

Sansa gasped and her hands went up to cover her mouth.

“Made sure he was good and dead before bringing him back. Said it was a boar. Like good old King Robert. ‘Cept I knew the truth.” Sandor let out a harsh laugh. “See, my brother was a great killer, but a terrible liar. I saw the way he looked at my father’s dead body. Like it was a prize. Like a stag he was proud enough to mount on the wall.”

He stopped for a moment. Sansa let the silence fall between them. The only sound was the crackle of the embers in the hearth.

He sighed before speaking again. “Just so happened that I was picked up as a squire at Casterly Rock. I left the day after my father was buried and made a promise to myself to never return. I haven’t yet.” He leaned forward. He took a deep breath and looked her in the eye. “And I don’t plan to.” He leaned back against the post, shaking his head. “As you know, Gregor went on to become a knight, anointed in the light of the Seven. A murderer. A raper. A kinslayer.” He laughed under his breath again.

Sansa shook her head. There was nothing to say. Not after learning about all of that. _Gods._ She had a dead father too. _But what if it had been Robb who did it? Jon? And then to see him be rewarded for it!_ It made her stomach turn.

“Why didn’t anyone stop him?” He cocked his head at her, squinted his eyes. “Oh. Right.” _They couldn’t. They were all afraid._ Sansa let out a small breath. “Well, now it makes even more sense.”

“What does?” He looked at her.

“Why you never wanted to be a knight.” She shook her head. “And I thought Ser Meryn was the worst of them.”

Sandor barked out another laugh. “No, little bird. I’m afraid not.”

Sansa sighed. “Well, he’s dead now. Robb saw to that.” She never really thought about how Robb killed him before. Her brother was tall, strong, but nothing compared to the Mountain. “He must have had Grey Wind’s help.”

Sandor shrugged. “Must have.”

Sansa looked down. She was pulling at the strands of fur in her hands. She knew what he was thinking. “You wanted to be the one to do it.” It was a statement, not a question. She looked up again. His eyes were closed as he nodded. “Maybe its better you weren’t.” She was quiet when she said it.

He opened his eyes at her and blinked. She watched his chest rise and fall. Then he opened up his arms. An invitation. She crawled over his leg to get closer to him, dragging the fur behind her. He helped her settle into his lap. She put her head against his chest and her arm around his middle, curling up her legs to her chest. He pulled the fur up around the both of them before wrapping his arms around her knees and back. She couldn’t imagine how he was comfortable with the wooden post digging into his back, but he rested his head against it and sighed.

* * *

Sandor

She fell asleep fast. He was exhausted, still unable to find the peace she did. He didn’t know how he managed it, but he had somehow got her under the covers and into the bed. He didn’t leave her either. He stayed, watching her sleep, thinking back on what he told her. It had been hard to talk about it. To get it out. He’d never told anyone any of it before. But if anyone was going to understand, to care enough about it, it was her. He settled his head against a pillow. Her bed was smaller than his, so he had no room to stuff pillows and blankets in between them again. Her hair had fallen in her face in her sleep. He pushed it back and out of the way.

The next thing he knew, he woke up to her tossing in the bed. She was whimpering in the darkness, but he could tell that she was still asleep. _A nightmare._ He waited for it to pass, but it only got worse.

“No.” She whispered as she tossed the furs off of her. Still asleep. In the darkness he could see that her face was wet. And then she screamed. Not too loud, not loud enough to wake someone in the room next to her. But loud enough to wake herself up.

He thought on instinct. He grabbed her as she shot up and made her lay back down. In her disoriented state, she tried to push him away. He only pulled her closer to him. “Sansa.” She was still crying, still trying to get away from him. “Sansa stop. It’s me.” Her hand hit against his neck and moved up his face to push him away. She was on his scars when she finally stopped. She moved her fingers across the mess of flesh and bone and he let her. Her breathing slowed. From where his hand was on her back, he could feel her heart start to slow down.

“Sandor.” She breathed.

“Aye.” He rubbed the small of her back in small circles. “It’s me girl, relax.”

He heard her suck in a breath. And the next thing he knew she was kissing him. She wrapped her other hand around his neck and pulled him close. He was so caught off guard, he didn’t think. He pulled her on top of him, flat across his chest. Her long legs intertwined with his. He let his hands move over her, down over her arse. He kept his hands there, gripping her tight, pulling her up higher against him. He could feel the edge of her shift in his fingers. He could feel every part of her against him. Her chest against his. Her heart, beating so fast against his, like a little bird’s. And he was sure she could feel every part of him too. But she didn’t flinch, she didn’t move away. Her fingers were in his hair, what was left of it. She just kissed him harder, deeper. He went to pull the shift up over her, slowly, his fingers tracing the skin underneath as he did. She gasped into his mouth.

Something in him snapped. He let go. His hands found her shoulders and he pushed her up, away from him.

He held her there, above him. In the darkness, he could see her face, just inches away from him. If they were half-asleep when they started, then they were certainly awake now. He felt her breath wash over him, coming hard and fast from her sweet mouth.

He swallowed and found his voice. “Best not.”

She sighed and put her forehead down against his. Her voice was barely over a whisper. “Best not.”

He moved her back to her side of the bed. She flopped down against the pillows. They both laid there for a while, trying to calm their breathing.

“Just, promise me one thing.” She finally said.

“Hmm?” _Seven fucking hells, what could she possibly ask of me now?_

“No more, pillow barrier.”

He laughed hard and soon she chimed in with him. He bent his arm behind his head. He felt her move closer and then her head was on his chest. She put her hand over his heart.

“It must be huge. Your heart.” She moved her head where her hand was, as if to listen to it pounding against his chest.

He sighed. “Try to get some sleep, little bird.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and closed his eyes.

* * *

Sansa

She dreamed that there were stones being piled onto her chest. That she was being buried alive. But she wasn’t panicking. She welcomed the weight.

Her eyes opened slowly. She smiled at the first thing she saw. They still had about an hour before the sun was up and anyone would come looking for her.

Sandor was asleep, his head on her chest. His arm wrapped around and underneath her. Her legs were tangled with his. She moved her hand over his face, moved his black hair out of the way. The left side of his face was up and she could see every part of it. Every inch of marred, charred flesh. The ear that was not. The white spot of bone showing at his jaw. She ran her fingers over his face.

That tingling feeling in her belly came back as she looked at him. He was in the way, she couldn’t push it away again. She let it sit there, festering, growing bigger and rumbling around in there. She felt it move down through her legs, into her toes. Up her chest, up her neck, in her ears, through her arms and into the tips of her fingers where she touched him.

And then it hit her. Suddenly she knew what it was, this new feeling. New, the feeling was, as new as the thought. But deep down, she supposed, she had always known. It had been there for months, maybe even hiding away for years. But there it was deep inside of her, warming every inch of her. And it wasn’t until now that she let it out.

 _Love_. She smiled when she let herself think of the word.

_I love him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shiiiiiiitttt
> 
> Girls in deep.


	67. Chapter 67

Sansa

When Sansa woke up again she was alone. She moved her hands to the other side of her bed. It was still warm from him. He must have just left. Sansa bunched her legs up to her chest and threw the covers over her head. She was smiling wide into her knees.

_I love him._

_I love Sandor._

She giggled and covered her mouth. “I am in love with Sandor.” She whispered it out loud to herself. Her stomach jumped inside her when she said the words. It was the most true thing that she had ever said. It was like saying her own name. It just – _was_.

“Princess?”

She didn’t even hear the door open. It was Mallory. _How long was she here? Did she hear me?_ She quickly shut her eyes under the covers and pretended to be asleep.

“Are you awake?” _No! Leave me alone with my thoughts, just a little while longer!_

She pulled the covers down from her face. Sansa feigned a sleepy moan and turned over.

“Princess, it’s time to get up. Your mother wanted to have breakfast with-“ Mallory stopped. “What- what’s this?”

Sansa opened her eyes and sat up. “What?”

In her hand, Mallory held a lemon. She turned it over for Sansa to see. There was a very large bite taken out of it, rind, seed and all.

From deep within her chest, a laugh escaped her lips. It was louder and brighter than she had ever heard from her own mouth. _Who bites a bloody lemon!_ She sat up and doubled over. _The bloody Hound, that’s who._ She held her arms around her middle. She was sure her sides were going to split open. Mallory dropped the lemon and backed away from her like she was mad.

She saw Shae and Anna come in the door. They joined in staring at Sansa.

“Where did it come from Princess?” Mallory asked her.

Sansa made herself stop laughing said the first thing that came to her mind. “I must have been sleep walking again!”

“Sleepwalking?” Mallory asked.

Shae came up and picked up the lemon. Her eyes widened when she saw it. She cleared her throat. “Again?”

Sansa felt herself blush. _No. Shae._ _She wouldn’t dare._

She sighed. “I’m going to have to lock you in your room from now on so you don’t keep _sleepwalking_.” She said through her teeth. She dropped the lemon and waved the girls away. “She used to do it all the time in King’s Landing. Come on.”

Sansa sighed and flopped back down against the bed.

“Anyway,” Mallory continued. “like I said, you’re mother wanted to see you this morning. She has something for you.”

“For me?” Sansa crinkled her nose. “What is it?”

“I don’t know.” Mallory was short with her. She didn’t know why. And she didn’t happen to care either. But her mother. What could she have for her?

Anna helped her with her bath while Shae and Mallory moved about the room seeing to their daily tasks. Sansa watched Shae from the bath. She looked like she was in a daze. She bumped into Mallory twice and dropped things a couple of times. Sansa remembered the way she looked at the man in the shop yesterday. She forgot about it, with everything that happened with Sandor. But now that she looked at her, it was clear. _This is a woman in love._

_Seven hells. Is that what I look like?_ She looked down into the water to see her reflection. _No. Thank the gods, too._ Her mother would be able to see right through it.

When Mallory was helping her into her dress, Sansa was suddenly nervous. Not from seeing her mother, but for seeing Sandor. She hadn’t seen him since she realized she loved him. She watched him asleep on her chest for a few minutes, but she fell asleep again soon after that. She hadn’t looked him in the eye yet. She wondered if he would be able to tell.

She thought about last night. She wished he didn’t keep stopping her from doing what she wanted. She knew he wanted it too, with the way he pulled her on top of him. She was sure her heart would stop in that moment. When he did that, she felt something else that she hadn’t before. A warmth. Low, in her stomach. Not like the fluttering spasms that she realized was just love. This was different. Something more. And she knew he felt that too for her, if nothing else. The way he grabbed her, pushed her against him. Her heart fluttered just thinking of it.

“Sansa?”

“Hmm?” Shae had been calling her name. She didn’t even notice. She was still holding onto the post of her bed, even though Anna must have stopped tying her in her dress a while ago.

_Oh gods. I must look just like Shae._

She squinted her eyes at her. “Sandor’s here.”

Sansa felt a warm shiver run down her neck at his name. She flexed and closed her hands a few times as she walked to the door. When she saw him, she felt a lump in her throat. His eyes pierced right through her. _Oh gods. He knows. He knows. He can read my mind, I’m sure of it._ His eyes pier

“Breakfast with your mother?” He asked. She looked down and nodded. Suddenly, she was afraid of looking him in the eye. “Let’s go then.”

She walked out into the hall and felt him follow her. She couldn’t stop thinking of the lemon. The bite he had taken out of it. _What did he mean by that?_ A nervous excitement went through her limbs, making them feel heavy, like a second glass of wine. She looked over her shoulder at him. He was looking down, watching her walk. A short giggle came out of her mouth and he looked up at her, his eyes wide. She turned her head back around and he caught up with her. She looked up at him from the corner of her eye and saw that he looked down at her, doing the same, a small smirk on his lips.

She was glad to see that he wasn’t regretting their conversation last night. She wondered if that was a part of what she know knew of her feelings for him. That he’d now told her about his life before her, more than the scar, but the horrible things he had gone through. In her mind, it was worse than what had happened to her.

They walked in a tension filled silence all the way to her mother’s solar. But it wasn’t a tension like they’ve had before. Much different than the kind that was there whenever she would argue with him, when she wasn’t talking to him. More like, like she wanted to stop him there in the hall and push him against the stone wall and kiss him, not caring who walked by, who saw.

But, of course, Sansa was a lady, and would never do anything of the sort. _Doesn’t mean I can’t think about it._

Too soon, they arrived at her mother’s solar.

He bent down to her ear. “I’ll be just out here, little bird.” Sansa rolled her shoulders back, to rid herself of the chills he gave her. She bit back a grin and opened the door to her mother’s room.

Brienne was in there with her. They were talking about something when she entered, and then stopped. Brienne stood up straight and bent her head toward her. “Princess Sansa.”

Sansa hadn’t spoken very much to her mother’s sworn shield. She supposed she wouldn’t have needed to, just like her mother never really spoke to Sandor. She just smiled at her and walked up to her mother at the table.

“Sansa, have a seat dear.”

She did. Her mother’s table was filled with different breakfast foods. A few eggs, a rasher of bacon, some warm bread with different fruit preserves and hot tea. Sansa poured herself a tea and held the cup in her hands, waiting for her mother to tell her the reason why she was there.

Catelyn finally spoke, a bright smile on her face. “It came, early this morning. I wanted to be here when you opened it.” She handed her a scroll. She looked at the wax seal. A silver mailed fist.

Sansa’s stomach fell to her feet. _Bloody, buggering hells_. She’d completely forgotten about him. Her hands were clammy as she peeled the wax away and unrolled the scroll.

She read it to herself.

 

_Princess Sansa,_

_I cannot tell you how eager I am for your visit to Deepwood Motte. We’ve already started the preparations for the feast upon your arrival. I know how you love to dance, so we’ve found the best musicians in the area to play for you all night long if you wish. We can arrange a trip to the sea if you would like as well. Don’t worry, we’ve ordered plenty of lemons so you shouldn’t be without your favorite dessert during your stay._

_Looking forward to your arrival._

_Yours,_

_Ser Gawen Glover_

 

Sansa closed her eyes, slowly, but shut them tight.

_Perfect. That’s what Gawen is. Absolutely perfect._

_But not for me. Never for me._

“What is it?” Catelyn asked. “May I see?

Sansa opened her eyes and handed over the scroll.

She watched her mother’s eyes as they looked over the words. A smile appeared on her face as she read.

“How wonderful.” She put the scroll on the table and picked up her tea. “He certainly is a thoughtful man isn’t he?

“He really and truly is.”

Catelyn cocked her head to the side. “Sansa. What is it?”

She didn’t know what she was thinking. That loving Sandor would be a way out? That she wouldn’t have to marry Gawen because she was already in love with someone else? _No. That’s not the way the world works._ Besides, Sandor was the one that came up with this month-long deal. He wasn’t fooling himself into thinking that this was, or could be, more than it was. She shouldn’t have been either.

She took a deep, shuttering breath. “Nothing. Just, nervous I suppose.”

Catelyn put down her tea and reached for Sansa’s hand. She let her hold it, there on the table, but she didn’t move to grasp hers in return.

Sansa sighed, before asking her. “Did you want to marry father? When you were told you had to?”

To her credit, Catelyn didn’t hesitate. “No. And it was sprung up on me so fast, after your Uncle Brandon died.” She sighed.

“Then why did you do it? Marry him?”

Catelyn squinted at her. “You know the Tully words.”

Sansa looked down. “Family. Duty. Honor.”

Catelyn nodded. “It’s one thing to go against your family’s wishes. It’s another when those are the words of your house. I was the eldest daughter of my house. I grew up knowing that one day I would be married to a lord of another. Just as you knew the same.” Sansa looked down and pulled her away her hand. “You used to want it. To marry a handsome lord, to become the lady of his house. To give him children and to raise them up right.”

Sansa kept her head down and picked at the bread on her plate. Her mother continued. “I can only try to understand why you might be so reluctant to marry again. And I understand that you are nervous. I was too. But Sansa,” She reached for her hand but Sansa pulled it away. “You will grow to love each other in time. Look at Robb and Roslin, how fast it was for them.”

She had a point. But Sansa was sure that neither Robb nor Roslin were in love with someone else before they were married to each other. Sansa shook her head. If Sandor could really hear her thoughts right now, he would think she was mad. He would grab her by the shoulders and shake it out of her. ‘Don’t be a fool, girl.’ He would say. ‘You know better than anyone how important family is. You’re no fool. Stop acting like one.’

* * *

 

Sandor

“Well, sorry isn’t going to cut it.”

The door slammed in his face. Sandor put his forehead against the door. “Rickon, I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

_Seven hells. He’s worse than his sister._ He felt horrible for the way he acted yesterday. But he was glad Sansa had forgiven him. He still couldn’t believe he told her the things he did. He didn’t know what he was expecting, why he had been so afraid to tell her. He didn’t know what she would say. When he finished, he realized he didn’t need her to say anything at all.

But now, in the morning, her silence was the last thing he wanted. When Sansa came out of breakfast with her mother, her eyes were low and her head was down.

“What’s wrong? What’s happened?” He asked her as soon as they were alone in the hall.

She just shook her head, but didn’t look at him. Didn’t say a word. He was left with that confusion to go try to apologize to her brother.

“Come on Rickon, you can’t stay in there all day.”

“I can and I will.” His small ten year old voice sounded even smaller from being muffled by the door.

Sandor sighed and tried the handle. It was unlocked. He walked in the room. Rickon was sitting on his bed, his eyes downcast. Shaggydog loped over to Sandor. He put out his hand and the wolf sniffed, then licked him.

“Look. Your beast forgives me. You should too.”

Rickon wouldn’t look at him.

Sandor pulled a chair up in front of him, groaning inwardly. “I’m sorry, for yesterday. I’m sorry for hurting you. I don’t know what came over me.” Rickon was unmoving. Sandor sighed and decided to go for a different approach. “I know you’ve seen your fair share of battle. Of death.”

Rickon nodded. He watched his home be taken by Theon Greyjoy. He lived on an island of Cannibals for fuck’s sake.

“Then you know what it can do to a man.”

Rickon looked up at him, squinted. “What do you mean?”

Sandor hadn’t planned on talking about this with him. But Rickon was a quick boy, he shouldn’t ask too many questions.

“Killing. Battle. War.” Sometimes, it leaves scars that can’t be seen.” Sandor sat back in the chair. “Sometimes, when we’re practicing, I forget it’s just you I’m with. That’s what happened yesterday. For that, I’m sorry.”

Rickon nodded, seeming to take in the bit of information. He looked up at his face, at his scar. He waited a moment.

“You’ve never even seen Queen Daenerys’ dragons have you?”

Sandor barked out a laugh. He wasn’t expecting that. “No little wolf, I haven’t.”

Rickon was undeterred. “Why did you lie?”

Sandor mulled it over for a minute. He sniffed. “The truth. It’s not easy, to admit.”

“Will you tell me what happened?”

Sandor looked at the boy. Never in his life did he expect that he would have told anyone about what his brother did to him. But he had told Sansa years ago. And here he was now, thinking that if he would tell anyone else, it would be this boy in front of him. Even still, Sandor shook his head. “No.”

Rickon didn’t stop. “Does anyone know what happened?”

Sandor felt himself nodding. “Just one.”

Rickon sat up straight and pulled his legs underneath him. “It’s Sansa, isn’t it?” Sandor froze. His eyes went wide, but he tried to keep his face blank. “I knew it would be her.” Rickon smiled to himself. “Is she your best friend?”

Sandor laughed. He never thought about it like that. He scratched his chin. “I’m sworn to her. To protect her.”

“I know. But you care about her. More than that alone.”

Sandor shrugged. _The fuck is he getting at?_ “Of course I do. You know I do. She saved my life. Twice.”

Rickon nodded, thinking. “What are you going to do when she gets married?”

Sandor rolled his eyes and shifted in his seat. “The same thing I’ve been doing all this time. I’m going to protect her.”

Rickon was looking at him, a crooked grin slipped onto his mouth, as wolfish as the beast at his feet.

“What?”

Rickon shrugged. “It’s stupid, if you ask me.” He leaned forward. “On Skaagos, if a man wanted to be with a woman, he would take her. Same the other way around too. There were no weddings. No arrangements between houses. No fancy feasts. No vows sworn in a sept. Just two people who wanted to share a tent and that was it.” He shook his head. “I don’t know why you and Sansa can’t just do that.”

“What?” Sandor’s voice was harsher than he had expected it to be.

“Well, you love her, don’t you?” Sandor thought he was frozen before, but now he truly couldn’t move. “Yea.” Rickon nodded to himself. “You do.”

Sandor shook the thought away. He made himself laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He stood up and the chair scraped against the floor.

“You do, Sandor.” He said matter-of-factly. “It’s obvious. Well, to me, anyway. I see the way you look at her. The first time I saw you look at her like that, I remembered my father, looking at my mother. And I realized, that’s what it looks like when a man loves a woman.”

Sandor tried another laugh. “I don’t love her.” He gruffed.

Rickon laughed at him. “Maybe you just never thought about it yourself. As you said, you’re her shield. Sworn to protect her. Why would you ever expect to be able, to be allowed to love her?”

_Fucking mind-reading little beast._

“What do ten year olds know about this shit anyway?” Sandor was pacing the room.

Rickon ignored him. He stood up and crossed his arms again.

“What are you going to do about it? Are you going to let her marry Ser Gawen?”

Sandor couldn’t stand it anymore. He stopped pacing, put his finger in Rickon’s face and roared at him. “ _Let her?_ What do you mean _let her_? It’s her duty. It’s what she is made to do. It’s what she wants, even if she won’t admit it to herself . No matter what I’d do, there is no way I would ever be able to stop it. To-” Rickon still stood there, smiling. “What the fuck are you looking at me like that for?” He snarled.

Rickon was unflinching. “You just admitted it. You love Sansa.”

Sandor groaned. _Fucking buggering hells._ He looked up at the ceiling and rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. He couldn’t even admit it to himself. But it was true. Of course it was. He’d been trying to hide it from himself since the first day he saw her. And all it took was a little ten year old prince to make him admit it to himself. He sighed and bent over, putting his hands on the back of the chair. The room was quiet for a moment.

“What are you going to do?” Rickon was quiet.

Sandor shook his head, looking down at his feet. “Nothing.”

“Why? You’re just going to stand by and let her marry someone else?”

“This isn’t Skaagos, Rickon.” He snapped at him. “This is the North. This is Winterfell. Her brother is the King. And she’s a _fucking_ Princess. Even if she wanted me, which she doesn’t, she never would, I would never _ever_ imagine that we would be able to be together. That’s not the world we live in. She’s a _princess_. And I’m her _dog_. That’s all this ever was. All it will ever be.”

Rickon’s eyes were wide. For once he looked frightened. Sandor saw him gulp.

“I could talk to Robb, ask him-“

Sandor grabbed him by the shoulders. “If you ever, ever open that mouth of yours about this to anyone but me, I will march you down to King’s Landing and hand feed you to the queen’s black dragon myself.”

“You wont.” Sandor gripped his shoulders harder. Rickon looked him straight in the eye, lifted his chin. “You won’t.” He said again. “But I won’t tell anyone.”

“That’s right, you fucking won’t.” Sandor let go of him and turned around for the door.

“You should at least tell her.” Sandor spun on him. Rickon put up his hands, as if to defend himself. “I think you’re wrong. About her, I mean. I think she feels the same.”

Sandor clenched his jaw, as tight as his fists at his sides, unmoving. He was breathing hard, but remained silent as Rickon shook his head at him.

“Come on, Shaggy.” Rickon waved the wolf over, and Sandor was motionless, watching the two leave the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUUUUYSSSS.
> 
> I'm sorry about yesterday. I worked for 11 hours at the salon. On my feet. The entire day. Worked there for a year and a half, stopped when I started grad school. I guess I'm gonna be working there a bunch again for the summer WAAAAHHH!
> 
> Then when I got home, Mr. Fancy Kid made me be social in Asbury. Then I had to go to the beach today. Not complaining about that bahaha but it did delay this chapter, and for that I'm sorry. As tomorrow is a pretty big day here at the shore, I doubt I'll be able to post at all.
> 
> anyway - RICKON KNOWS! Little clairvoyant shit.


	68. Chapter 68

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're welcome....?

Sandor

“Sansa received a lovely letter this morning. From Ser Gawen.”

“Mother.” Sansa said through gritted teeth.

He stood behind her at dinner, as he always did. The way she bent her head when her mother spoke, almost looked like she was trying to tell him something. But he couldn’t be sure what it was.

“A very nice man.” Her mother continued. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he was half in love with her already!”

He watched Sansa’s shoulders slump. She reached for the wine to fill her cup again.

“That’s wonderful.” The little queen said, clasping her hands together. “So we’ll leave in a little more than two weeks then? Right Robb?”

Robb nodded. “That’s right.”

“How long will we be staying?” Sansa asked, a little too loudly.

“About a week, I think.” Robb said. “It’s almost four days ride from here.”

Roslin looked at Sansa. “And then, when we come back, we’ll start planning for your wedding!”

From where he stood, he could see the fake smile Sansa plastered on her face. Was he the only one who knew she was faking? He’d gotten to be an expert at reading the masks she would wear in Joff’s court. He looked around, her mother and Rickon didn’t look convinced. But then, Rickon knew something that he shouldn’t. Rickon looked at Sandor then, his eyes were hard. Sandor ground his jaw. He ever so slightly, shook his head from one side to the other. He heard Rickon sigh loudly, but other than that he remained quiet for the rest of the meal.

Sandor still couldn’t believe what had happened earlier in the day. _Love. So what. I love her. No good is going to come from it._ He still didn’t understand why she wanted to be with him the past few nights. _Comfort_ , he supposed. _Nothing more._

Self-destructive as ever, Sandor knew he would soak up every bit of attention she gave him for the next two weeks. _Then she can go back to being the perfect princess and marry her perfect knight. And I will stand by, watching her love him until I die._ Sandor would have to learn how to be fine with that. Because being around her and being miserable was better than not being around her at all.

He watched her take a long, deep sip of her wine. They were at dinner until late, Sansa barely spoke but no one seemed to notice but him. She just moved the food around her plate. He watched her slyly hand down pieces of meat to Shaggy who waited at her feet.

As usual, they were quiet on the way back to her room. He didn’t know what to do, if she would want to sleep next to him again, and which room they would choose. They got to her room.

“Wait here.” She told him.

He did. She left the door open. He saw her go into one of her drawers. She pulled out a key and walked back to him. He checked the hall, making sure it was still empty. It was. She came to him and pulled the door behind her, locking it. She walked past him toward his room. He didn’t move. She opened to door to his room and went inside. He didn’t move. After a moment, she peeked her head out the door.

“Are you coming?”

* * *

Sansa

She decided what she was going to do shortly after she read the letter from Gawen.

She thought about it for the rest of the day. What she would do. What she would say to convince him. She told herself the lie in her head enough times that she almost believed it herself. Almost. The real reason was staring her in the face, eyes as sharp and grey as the steel at his side. _I has to be him. I love him._

She strode over to him. She kept her eyes on his chest and put her hands there. He grabbed her wrists, gently, just holding her there. She lifted her chin and he bent his head down. They kissed. It was soft. He seemed distracted. But she was determined. Her hands moved over his chest, finding the buttons. She managed to loosen one before he noticed and tightened his grip on her wrists. He shook his head slightly as they kissed. She nodded back into him, tracing his lip with her tongue. She felt him draw a sharp breath and he pulled away.

He let go of her hands and they dropped to her sides. “Maybe you should stay in your own room tonight.” His eyes looked lost. He was confused. Concerned. Sansa shook her head. She thought she might be able to get farther before he began protesting. She was hoping she wouldn’t have to do much talking to convince him. But inside, she knew it wouldn’t be that easy.

Sansa put her hands on her hips, and took a deep breath. _So here it goes._

“So, I am going to marry Ser Gawen.”

He blinked at her. “I know.”

She breathed deep, trying to slow her heart. “And he is going to have to bed me.”

She watched something flash across his face. But she couldn’t identify it. “I know.” His voice was cold.

Sansa wanted to look at him when she told him, but she found it extremely difficult. She walked toward the fire in the hearth and back again before she spoke.

“All day, after I got that letter, I tried thinking of him being the one to do it.” She turned around again. Pacing, watching her feet, urging herself to tell him. Tell him the lie. She swallowed, hard.

“I can’t picture it. I can’t see it. Laying with him. Him-“ She stopped, took a breath and licked her lips. She made herself look up at him. “Him, being the one to take my maidenhead.” Sandor’s eyes were wide. His jaw clenched. “I don’t want him to do it.”

Sandor sighed and put his hand over his chin. He looked uncomfortable. _Good._ “You should tell your mother then. Your brother. Got nothing to do with me.”

“It has everything to do with you, Sandor.”

He waited. “How so?”

“I-“ She swallowed again. “I want it to be you.”

He barked out a laugh. A laugh without humor. “Don’t be ridiculous, little bird.” He shook his head and walked to the table. She watched as he poured himself a cup of wine.

“Don’t you want me?” He slammed the flagon down onto the table. He turned on her, slowly.

“You know I do.” Her heart skipped a beat, with the way he stared into her. She knew he did. But hearing him say it out loud, to her, was something else entirely. He took a sip.

“Then, why?” She asked. “Why can’t we?”

He took another sip and breathed. “It’s not mine to take.”

“But it’s _his_?”

“You’re betrothed. By rights, yes. It’s his.”

Sansa shook her head, smiling at him. “That’s just it, don’t you see? It’s not his. It’s not yours. It’s _mine_. Mine to do with what I will. Mine to give to whoever I want. And I want it to be you.”

He laughed again, and looked away from her.

Sansa walked up to him and took the cup of wine from his hand. She took a gulp and slammed it down on the table. Dornish red. A chill went through her as she swallowed the sour liquid.

“You’re drunk.” He said to her.

“I’m not. One look at my eyes, you’ll see that I’m not.” She stared up at him. He could see that she wasn’t.

He shook his head. “Why then?”

 _Because I love you,_ she wanted to say. _Because I want to give myself to you, only you. Forever._ She took a breath before saying what she had been practicing in her mind all day, not taking her eyes off of him.

“Why? You want to know why? This is why. Because I don’t know Ser Gawen. Because when we come back here to get married, I will be carried off. I will be stripped bare by all of the men there. You will probably be expected to help.” She heard his teeth click together behind his clenched jaw. “Because I am going to be tossed in a room alone with a man that I barely know, and be expected to open my legs for him so he can _claim what’s his_.” She spat out the last words. She didn’t realize how loud her voice became. He hadn’t moved. His eyes were hard. He looked angry, but she didn’t stop. “If that isn’t enough, then what about this? After everything I’ve been through. After Joffrey. I can’t imagine giving myself to someone I don’t know. I’m scared Sandor.” Until she said it, she didn’t realize how true the words were.

“This isn't how this works. That’s not what is meant to happen.”

“I don’t care.”

“And when he finds out you’re no longer a maid, what will you do then?”

“There are ways. I’ll prick my finger. I’ll _lie_.”

Sandor shook his head, slowly. “I won’t hurt you.” His voice was rough, but barely above a whisper.

“You won’t hurt me.” She agreed.

He shook his head again. “I will though. That’s just it. You don’t understand.”

Sansa rolled her eyes and groaned. “I don’t _care_ about that. Do you want him to? To be the one that hurts me?”

“No.” He said through his teeth.

She walked closer to him. “I just-“ Her jaw was shaking. “I just want to know what to expect when I’m _sold off_. I _know_ you.” She put her hands on his chest and looked up at him. He looked at her but didn’t hold her back. _He’s not pushing me away either,_ she let herself hope. “I _trust_ you.” She let herself work at another button, trying to hide the way her hands shook. “I want you.” She whispered. She lifted herself to her toes, waiting for him to come down to her. She looked at him. He was about to break, she could see it. _I love you._ She thought. _I love you. I love you._

Something in his eyes changed. For a moment, she thought she had said it out loud. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. She never would. She kissed him. He didn’t react. She kissed him again. “Please.” She begged into his mouth.

Her thoughts disappeared when he kissed her. His arms snaked around her waist, pulling her up higher on her toes to meet his mouth more easily. She worked her hands down his doublet, unbuttoning until she felt it loosen on his shoulders. She helped him shrug out of it and it dropped to the floor. She moved her hands down to his belt. She unlatched it and his sword fell with a clatter. He stepped out of his boots. She slipped off her shoes. He never left her mouth.

Her hands found their way to his waist. She gripped the fabric where it was tucked into his breeches and pulled it out. He broke off from her to pull the tunic over his head. Sansa watched him as he dropped it to the ground.

It was just as she remembered, from watching him in the stream. His chest was covered in dark hair, little pink scars. She ran her hands over his skin, feeling the muscle, the strength underneath. He let her look at him. Her hands felt like they were on fire again. She moved them up over his shoulders, down his arms. She stopped above his elbow. She laughed. Her hands didn’t even wrap halfway around.

She looked up at him, a smile on her face. His matched hers.

She made herself turn around, and she stood with her back to him. She moved her hair to the front of her and he put his hands on her shoulders. She shivered when he did, she was sure he could feel it.

Painfully slowly, she felt him begin to loosen the laces on the back of her dress. His hands worked their untying and pulling the ribbons away. Sansa felt the structured fabric begin to fall away from her chest, her stomach. When it was loose enough, his hands found her shoulders again. He started to pull the dress away, revealing the thin shift underneath. His hands moved over her shoulders, and down her arms, until the dress fell to the floor. She took a breath and stepped out of it, away from him. She turned back around to face him.

From where she stood, in front of the fire, she knew he wouldn’t be able to see her. She turned to the side and he followed her. Half of him was in darkness. The left side of him was alight by the fire. She smiled, looking at his scars, his face. She knew he could see her.

She bent down to lift the edge of her shift. She pulled it up, over her body, over her head, and down her arms. All that was left was her small clothes. He didn’t make a move to her. So she didn’t stop. She kept her eyes on him as he watched her remove the rest of the delicate fabric that separated his eyes from the rest of her.

She dropped them to the ground, and stood there. Naked. In front of Sandor Clegane. Not knowing what to do next. Luckily, he seemed to have an idea.

He walked toward her, looking in her eyes, in a way she’d never seen him look at her before. It was something new. Not just the hunger for her. It almost looked like something more. But her thoughts disappeared as he kissed her. She wrapped herself around him. His hands moved from her face, down her neck, down her shoulders, over her back, stopping at her waist. His lips moved away from her mouth and went down to her neck. Sansa heard a moan escape her lips. A sound she never heard herself make before. But then, this was unlike anything she had ever felt. His hands moved up her body, wrapping almost all the way around her middle. He slid them up further. His mouth found hers again and she gasped when he touched her breasts. His hands were warm, but they still gave her chills. Through her thin, sensitive, skin, she could feel the rough calloused difference in his.

Sansa found herself pulling at the laces on his breeches. Unlike last time, he didn’t try to stop her. She loosened the strings until she was able to push his breeches down and away from him.

He pulled away from her to step out of them. The first thing she saw was the scar on his leg, from the fire. It looked like it still hurt, pink and pocked as it was, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as the scar on his face. He still wore smallclothes. But she could see the hardness of him through the thin fabric. Suddenly, she was nervous. Not for the pain. And she certainly wasn’t regretting her decision. But she just didn’t know what to expect.

She looked up at him again. Her eyes were wide. He stayed still, as if he was waiting for permission to continue. “What if I’m bad at it?”

Sandor grinned at her. She could tell that he was holding back a laugh. And she was glad he did. “That’s not possible.” He walked over to her. He grabbed her hand and brought it up to his mouth.

His eyes searched hers as he kissed her palm. Her faint scars from where she was burned, saving him. “You’re perfect.” He mumbled into her hand.

Suddenly, Sansa didn’t want to wait anymore. She kissed him, harder than ever. He wrapped his arms around her again and lifted her up against him. She pushed her fingers into his hair. Every part of her touched him as he carried her to the bed, but somehow, she wasn’t close enough. He didn’t leave her mouth as he knelt onto the bed. He laid her down, he back against the furs. And still his mouth didn’t leave hers. He was over her now, like in the godswood, the first time they kissed. Only much, much different. Sansa felt a warm ache, low in her stomach, that she could only imagine came from her desire, her need for him.

He left her mouth again and moved down to her neck. But he didn’t stop there. His hands, his mouth, his tongue, worked their way down her chest. He kissed her breast, opened his mouth and moved his tongue over her nipple. She gasped and he looked up at her.

“Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head, and felt a grin appear on her lips. “Quite the opposite.”

His lip curled up and he went back to what he was doing. Sansa moaned again from the feeling. Her back arched as she pressed herself against him. She was breathless. He moved down to the rest of her body, kissing her stomach, trailing his tongue along her skin. His hand went over her hip, down her thigh, over her knee and underneath the back of it. He lifted her knee up and she bent her leg. He looked up at her and watched her eyes as he traced his fingers back up her thigh. She was sure her stomach would burst. But it wasn’t her stomach that this ache was coming from, she realized. It was lower. Where his hand was about to be. She watched his hand move over her, between her legs. His fingers were gentle on her soft, sensitive skin. She was breathing heavy, her chest heaving. Another sound she didn’t know she was capable of creating slipped from her mouth as he moved a finger, slowly, inside of her. It didn’t hurt. At all. Sansa was sure it was the best thing she had ever felt in all of her life. She arched her hips against his hand. It felt wet, where he was, between her legs. She didn’t know what to expect, she didn’t know that is what would happen. All she knew is that she didn’t want to wait anymore. He seemed to think the same. He moved his hand away from her and came back to her, hovering over her.

Somehow, she didn’t even notice when, but he had taken off his small clothes. She looked down at him. _Seven hells, he’s huge._ Sansa felt like a stupid little girl. _Of course he is. Look at the rest of him._ She couldn’t imagine how _that_ was going to fit inside of her, but she wanted to find out. He seemed to notice her thinking.

“You’re sure? This is what you want?”

“I’m sure.” She snaked her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her.

“I’m not-“ He spoke between kissing her. “-going to be able, to ask again.”

Sansa’s heart hammered against her ribs. She nodded into his mouth. She moved her hand down his chest. She felt him shudder as she moved her fingers softly over him. It was hard and huge, but the skin was soft. She couldn’t wait anymore. She scooted up toward the pillows, wanting to be even with him. He moved down as she did. She opened her legs for him.

He took himself in his hand and she watched as he guided himself to her entrance. He looked at her again, before he moved. She nodded. He pushed himself into her, slowly. He stopped quickly after a second, and it didn’t hurt. _This isn’t bad at all._ She looked down, and he was barely even inside. _Oh._ She nodded again, encouraging him.

He sighed and pushed further. Sansa gasped, feeling the pain.

He stopped, but she scooted down against him. She bit her lip as she felt her flesh make room for his. There was a burning, pinching feeling, and it truly did hurt.

“That’s it. It’s done.” He breathed.

She knew what he meant. Her maidenhead was gone. That must be the burning feeling. But the pain was still there.

“Are you alright?”

She nodded and lifted her chin to kiss him. He bent his head down and kissed her. He was breathing heavy into her. He pulled away from her only to push back in, further. She knew it would hurt. But she wasn’t expecting to be unable to handle it. She tried to focus on kissing him and she gripped hard around his neck. He moved inside of her, slowly, in and out, kissing her harder as he did. He pulled away from her, to look her in the eyes. And he froze.

“What?” She asked him. “What is it?”

He clenched his jaw and lifted himself off of her, pulling out of her as he did. Before she even knew what was happening, he was off of the bed. She pushed herself up on her elbows. She watched him as he walked to the hearth and picked his breeches up off the floor. “What happened? Did I do something wrong?”

He laughed, once, and harshly as he pulled his breeches up over his legs. “You lied.”

“What?” She sat up.

He was working on the ties. “You said you were alright.”

“I am.” She breathed.

He looked up and thrust a finger at her. “You’re crying, Sansa!” He roared.

Sansa’s hand flew up to her cheek. He was right. Her face was wet, she didn’t even notice.

“Sandor.” He didn’t stop. “Sandor.” She made her tone harder. He finished lacing and turned toward the door.

Sansa crawled over to the corner of the bed. “Sandor. If you leave me right now, like this-“ he froze at the door. “I’ll never forgive you.”

* * *

 Sandor

He stared at his hand on the handle of the door, urging himself to open it. _Jump off the fucking battlements. March to the wall and give yourself to the Others. Kill yourself, you piece of shit._

“Sandor.” She begged again. Her voice broke. And so did he.

His hand dropped from the door and his shoulders fell. He made himself turn and look at her. She was on her hands and knees at the corner of the bed. He watched her let out a shuddering breath. She closed her eyes and sat back on her heels.

_How the fuck did I let this happen?_

One moment, he’s pushing her away, telling her to sleep in her own room. The next, he’s on top of her, driving himself into her.

_What have I done?_

He thought back on what happened. The way she talked about Ser Gawen taking her made his stomach turn. Made him want to go to Deepwood now and kill him before he ever had a chance. The thought of anyone hurting her again made him want to kill. And here he was, doing the hurting.

But she convinced him. He should have never given in to her. But the way she looked at him, it almost looked like, like she could have- _no_. He wouldn’t let himself think of that. But then she wanted him to take off her dress. He couldn’t even think straight as he did it. _I am unlacing Sansa Stark’s dress._ Everything in his mind told him to stop, but his hands wouldn’t listen.

Then when she stood in front of him, taking off the rest of her clothes, any similar thought flew from his mind. There she was, in all of her perfect glory. Her hair was behind her back, so he could see all of her. He loved her slender arms, her small feet, her knobby knees, her long silky legs. The perfect place in between them. He loved her shapely hips, her waist, her flat stomach. Her teats, a perfect size for his hands. But most of all, he thought he loved her freckles the most. The ones on her nose, he could always see. He never imagined the rest of her skin like this. In the firelight he could see them. Where his skin was covered in scars, hers was covered in freckles. Not too many and not too close together. Her chest, her shoulders, were dusted with them. He wanted to kiss every single one.

Every time he touched her, he was certain he’d never felt anything so perfect. Her whole body pressed against his as he carried her to the bed. Her breast in his mouth. The warm, wet and soft flesh between her legs against his hand.

With the way she arched against him, he thought he would die right then.

When he entered her, he tried to move as slowly as possible. He heard her gasp and stopped, knowing how it must have hurt. He wanted to stop right then, but she told him she was alright. So he continued, moving in and out of her. Then, Sandor knew he’d never felt anything so perfect in his entire life. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a woman, but it was nothing like this. Nothing like her.

He pulled away from her. He had to see her. He had to see that this was really her, under him. Around him.

The first thing he saw was her eyes. A second later, the tears that fell from them.

And then he wanted to die.

He still stood in the doorway. He couldn’t move. He didn’t want to look at her, but he made himself. She had stopped crying, but from where he stood, he could see that she was shaking. Shivering. He watched as she pulled one of the furs up and around herself.

“Please, Sandor.”

“Why did you lie?”

“I didn’t want to stop.”

“You’re in pain, Sansa.”

She swallowed. “Not anymore. Not now. Just at first, really.”

“I hurt you.” He said it more to himself, not believing that he actually let himself hurt her. After everything he’d helped her through, after he swore to protect her, and he hurt her.

She moved her hair out of her face and behind her ear. “We knew that was going to happen, didn’t we?”

He still hadn’t moved.

Her eyes shifted to the side. “Will you, will you come back? To bed?”

“No.”

“Just sit with me here, please.”

“No. I’m never touching you again, Sansa.”

He heard the breath come from her mouth before he saw it. It looked like she just deflated.

“Please don’t tell me that. Please.” She pointed to the chair. “Just- just sit down. Please. You’re making me nervous.”

After a moment, he unclenched his fists and moved to sit in the chair. He poured himself a cup of wine before he did, and drained it before he was even in the chair.

“Thank you.” She whispered after a moment. He narrowed his eyes at her. “For staying.” She finished.

Sandor sighed and bent forward, leaning his head in his hands.

They were silent for some time. He heard her breathing, it was slow, deep and steady.

“If you aren’t going to talk to me about this-“ She started.

He cut her off, snapping his head up to look at her. “I’ll never forgive myself for what I’ve done to you.”

Her mouth popped open. She shook her head. “You did nothing I didn’t ask you to.”

“It doesn’t matter. I promised to protect you. And I hurt you. In the worst way imaginable.”

“How- how is this the worst way? Is there- I just- I can’t imagine a _better_ way.”

“Oh come on Sansa.”

“I mean it. It did hurt Sandor.” He growled under his breath. “But _I wanted_ it to happen. _I made_ it happen. I didn’t want it to stop either.”

He looked up at her. _She’s insane. She’s actually gone mad._

“I never knew that I could-“ She swallowed, pausing. In the firelight, he could see her blushing. “I never imagined that I could want something so badly. I never imagined how good it could feel.”

“ _Good?_ Sansa, you were crying.”

“Before that though.” She retorted. “I just- when you touched me. The way you kissed me. I-“ Her mouth moved, but no sound came out. She looked at a loss for words.

They were silent again, for a while. He stared into the fire, wishing he could fit in the hearth.

“Will you come to bed? Please? Just to sleep.” He looked up at her, she was still in the fur. _She’s actually begging me._ “Please Sandor. Let me sleep next to you.”

When he didn’t move, she scooted to the top of the bed, and climbed under the covers. “Please. You don’t have to touch me.”

He waited for her breathing to slow, until her eyes were closed, to get up. He climbed in the bed and stayed as far from her as he could manage. He put his hands under his head and tried to ignore the fact that she still lay naked next to him.

* * *

Sansa

They were under the lemon tree again. They were on the ground, he was on top of her again. She could feel him moving inside of her. And it felt like how she knew it should.

She wrapped her legs around his back, pushing him further into her.

“I love you.” She whispered as he kissed her neck.

He pulled away and brought his mouth up to her ear. “I love you.”

 

Sansa woke up with a start. The room was dark, with just the dying embers of the fire.

She could hear him snoring next to her. When she sat up, she could feel the wetness between her legs and she knew she wanted him. She wanted that dream. She wanted it to come true. But he said he would never touch her again. Sansa couldn’t bear the thought of it. She needed him. She rolled onto her side until she was right up next to him. He was asleep as she reached her hand out over him. Her fingers found his skin through the hair on his chest. She traced her way down to his stomach, feeling the curve of his muscles there. She got to the top of his breeches and traced along the edge. She felt little bumps come up on his skin as she felt there, like the kind she would get on her arms when he kissed her. She pulled at the laces on his breeches until she could slip her hand underneath. He was already hard. She barely noticed when he stopped snoring. She took him in her hand and felt along his length and the smoothness of his skin. He brought his hand down to stop her. She let go of him, but pulled his hand over to her. He followed until she put his hand between her legs. He didn’t move for a second, but then he could feel her. She gasped again, remembering the dream and how good she knew it could feel.

“Please, Sandor.”

She heard him groan, but he didn’t stop moving his hand, his fingers. He turned on his side toward her. She could barely see him in the darkness. She wanted to throw another log on the fire so she could, but she didn’t want to move away from him. She kissed him. He was reluctant, but only for a moment. In just seconds, his hand was in her hair, her arms were around his neck.

The way he moved his hand, Sansa could feel something inside of her. That warm ache again. But stronger. It was like a pressure, like something was building. And she knew this is what is was, how it was supposed to feel.

She pushed his hand away. “No.” She kissed him again. “You.” He shook his head against her and she nodded into him again. “Please.” She reached for him again. “Please.”

Before she knew what was happening, he was on top of her. She wrapped her legs around his back, like she remembered in the dream. And then he was inside of her. Sansa gasped. He stopped, but she moved against him and he continued. There was pressure, but not pain. Not like before. “Don’t stop.” He moved slowly inside of her. He was breathing hard, in her ear. Her hands found his face and brought it to hers. She kissed him, opening her mouth for his. Their tongues met as they kissed, deep, but slowly.

Sansa felt her body begin to move, her hips against his. And suddenly it was as if she’d always known what to do. They found a gentle rhythm, but Sansa found herself moving faster, harder with him.

And then the pressure changed. Like before with his hand, but better. Stronger. She was out of breath, but they didn’t stop. He knew something was changing, something was happening. He moved his hand so it was behind her, underneath her and he brought her even closer to him. The feeling inside of her built, fast, after he did that. Just when she thought she would surely pass out from how good it felt, it got better, and better, until it peaked, and Sansa found herself moaning into his mouth. The feeling was unlike anything she ever knew she could feel, unlike anything she could describe. Just as soon as it came upon her, it began to fade away. And then he pushed harder into her, faster. He moved his mouth from hers and put his face into her neck.

“Sansa.” She heard him groan, his breath giving her chills along her spine. He shuddered, ever so slightly, and slowly stopped moving.

They lay there like that for a while, breathing hard against each other. She wasn’t sure whose heartbeat belonged to who, as they hammered within their chests. Sansa moved her mouth against his shoulder, kissing a scar that was there. She moved her hands over his back and she felt him shiver. She laughed softy into his skin.

He sighed and lifted himself away from her, pulling out of her. He hovered over her, searching her eyes. She could see the light of his eyes in the dark and that feeling went through her. The tingling one that stretched from her belly to her toes and her ears. She moved her hands along him and brought them up to his face. _I love you,_ she wanted to tell him. _I love you._ She felt along his scar as she looked at him and she kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tried to be as realistic as possible. Hope it was okay.
> 
> OKAY NOW SAY SOMETHING THE SILENCE IS TERRIFYING.


	69. Chapter 69

Sandor

_I love you._

The way she looked at him, he wouldn’t be surprised if he said it out loud. But no need for that. Would just scare the shit out of her.

Her eyes were so clear, so blue in the dying light of the fire. He didn’t want to move. Didn’t want the moment to end. If he left her right now, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to convince himself that this ever happened.

And then she kissed him again. Not to start again, but to finish. To end it.

He moved to the side of her and flopped down on his back. They lay like that for a while. He wanted to turn to her, to wrap her up against him and breathe into her hair, her neck. But he wanted to leave it up to her. From the corner of his eye, he watched her chest heaving with her heavy breaths. Soon it slowed and her breathing deepened, steadied, much like his own.

It didn’t take much for her to convince him the second time. He woke up from the chills she gave him and he wasn’t fully awake until she was underneath him, practically begging for him. He hated to admit it to himself, but he didn’t think then. He couldn’t wait.

He heard her sigh. Watched her stretch out her toes before turning to him. Her slender arm slinked over his chest and she nestled her head under his arm. He brought it around to hold her. He drew circles along the small of her back and she sighed again, against him.

Sandor took a deep breath and shook his head to himself. _I’m lying in bed, holding a naked Sansa Stark after we just had sex._

She must have felt him move. She tilted her head up to him. “What is it?”

He laughed lightly and pulled her closer. Her leg bent up over his and now her face was over his, looking down at him. “You should wake me up like that more often.”

“So you-“ She bit her lip. “You enjoyed it then?”

Sandor couldn’t help it. He barked out a laugh. Probably too loud. Her eyes went wide and she covered his mouth with her hand. He laughed against her skin and mumbled. “You’re joking right?”

Even in the darkness, he could see her blush. She moved her hand “I just – I don’t know how you are supposed to react. I mean – I know you’ve had plenty of women before. I just don’t know how this would have – compared.”

“Plenty of women?”

“Well, haven’t you?”

Sandor sighed. “I wouldn’t say plenty. Enough.” He’d always preferred drinking and killing to paying for a whore. Women who would personally desire to lie with the Hound were rare to come by. That is, until now. He looked at her, her eyes worrying over him. “Never like this. Never like you.”

He could feel her heart beat faster where it was against him.

He took another breath. “For you then? Was it very painful?” He was afraid to hear her answer. Afraid she would lie again.

But it was her turn to laugh. A short, soft one. Nervous even.

“Painful? Sandor. Could you not tell? I’ve – I’ve never felt” She was embarrassed, he could see. She looked down and put her forehead into his chest. Her voice was muffled against him. “I’ve never felt anything so perfect in my life. Never knew I ever could. That anything like that was possible.” She looked up. “No one, ever told me it would be like _that_.”

 _Seven hells._ He couldn’t help himself. He laughed again.

Her eyes went wide. “What?” She hit his chest. “Don’t laugh at me.”

He shook his head. “I’m not.” His hands moved down her back and over her perfect arse. He grabbed her and pulled her up on top of him. “You’re just-“

Her heart was hammering against his. “Just what?”

He searched for the right word, looking at the freckles on her nose, as close as she was. “Adorable.”

“Adorable?” She squinted her eyes at him.

“Aye. Adorable.”

Something flashed in her eyes. And then her mouth was on his. She wrapped her hands under his neck, pulling into his hair. She bit his lip as she kissed him. She pulled away, breathless as he was, but stayed close to his face.

“You call that _adorable_?”

Sandor sat up, bringing her with him. Her legs fell around his sides and her arms wrapped around his neck. He ran his hands down her legs to her ankles and pushed them behind him. She took the hint and wrapped them around his back. He kissed her, once and pulled away. “Yes.” Her eyes went wide as he moved to his knees and hovered on top of her again. She kissed him, roughly and he knew she was ready for him. She gasped into his mouth as he moved into her. He never thought that he would be ready so quickly after just a few moments. But then, he never thought that Sansa would be the one to be writhing underneath him. The first time felt almost wrong, since he knew he was hurting her. The second time, he wasn’t sure how it felt for her until she reacted the way she did. This time, it felt as though they’d been at it for months. Years even. The way she kissed him, felt him, moved with him, he could barely believe this was only her third time. At the thought, he felt her heels digging into his back.

Her hands moved down his chest and around to his back, pressing him closer into her. He pulled away from her mouth to watch her. Her eyes were closed, her mouth open, lips raw and red from him. She was breathless, and he could feel the change in her when her eyebrows furrowed together and she moaned. Deeper, louder than before. He felt a smile on his lips when he kissed her to quiet her. Another second and he was done for too.

When they were finished, he didn’t want to move. He kept his forehead against hers as they breathed together. It wasn’t until she squirmed against him that he remembered he was still inside of her.

He breathed in, opened his eyes, and kissed her on the nose. “Adorable.”

He pulled away and backed up from her to avoid her attempts at hitting him. He grabbed her wrists and pulled her on top of him again as he fell on his back.

He laughed when she tried to struggle against him, until she stopped and joined him in laughing. She laid down and nuzzled into his neck and they wrapped around each other.

“And you wanted to leave.” She murmured into his ear.

“I should have.” He shook his head. “Should have left before any of this happened. Should have made you go back to your room.”

“But you didn’t.”

“But I didn’t.”

She sighed. “Are you regretting your decision?”

Sandor waited a moment but then shook his head. He knew this would probably destroy him, especially when he would have to give her up. But for right now, it was all worth it. “Are you?” He asked her. It was her life this was effecting after all.

She didn’t hesitate. “Not even a little bit.”

Sandor sighed. “Good.”

She was quiet for a moment and he thought she might have fallen asleep.

“Don’t push me away again.”

“I won’t.” _I couldn’t, even if I wanted to._

Her voice was quiet. “We have two weeks until Deepwood. I’m not letting another night go by without this.”

Sandor froze. He hadn’t really thought about the time before the trip. He thought they would have a month to kiss and fool around. He never expected two weeks of _this_ with her. But she was right. He needed this too.

He still didn’t understand why she wanted to be with him. But he thought that one night of this was all she wanted. That she just wanted to get the first time over with, with someone she knew and trusted. That’s what she told him, anyway. But she wants more of him? Every night until then? His mind was spinning as he heard her fall asleep. He pulled a fur up over them and around her shoulders. _What is going on in this girl’s mind?_ Sandor found himself falling asleep, holding her, wondering if he would ever know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Round 2? Or 3? Hmm.
> 
> More later - maybe. I hope. As long as class doesn't go too long.  
> More plot too. But not too much.


	70. Chapter 70

Sansa

Sansa woke when the sun entered the room. She kept her eyes shut for a moment. Her body felt – right. She was tired, but not sore. She stretched out her limbs and her muscles felt loose, warm. Sansa opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was four feet at the head board. Two were hers, two his. His legs were bent up, since his bed was too short for him. Her head was still on his arm. But they were both laying on their backs, a warm fur covering most of them.

She heard him groan next to her. She smiled as she turned to her side. She slipped her arm over his middle as he turned toward her and wrapped her up in both of his arms. She could feel his hardness against her. _Gods. Again?_ She looked at the light in the room. _No. It’s already late._

Sansa laughed and murmured into his chest. “I have to go.”

“Mmmm…” He moaned into her hair and pulled her tighter against him.

She closed her eyes and breathed him in. _Don’t fall asleep._ She listened to his breathing for a minute until she started to fade away. _Don’t fall asleep!_ She made her eyes snap open.

She pulled her arm away from him and squirmed, pushing against his arms around her. He moaned again and held her even tighter. “Sandor.” She continued to struggle, but it was useless. His arms were like iron bars around her. He wasn’t pushing her against him, but he wouldn’t move.

She stopped struggling and found a new way out. She scooted down and slipped out from under his arms until she was finally free. She sat up and took a minute to catch her breath. He turned over on his stomach, where she was just lying.

He was still breathing deeply, but she didn’t think he was fully asleep. She looked down at the fur that still covered him. She looked closer. There was a small, dark stain on it. _Blood_ , she realized. _From me_. She completely forgot about it. It wasn’t much at all. _It shouldn’t be difficult to fake, later_ , she thought. _No._ She wouldn’t think about that yet. Not until they had to leave for Deepwood. _How would he explain it though, when they come to clean his room?_ She looked around the room, trying to think. And then she saw the wine on the table. _Perfect._ Sansa crawled over Sandor’s legs and got to the edge of the bed. She put her feet to the floor and stood. She stretched her arms over her head and sighed, before padding over to the wine. She filled half a cup and turned back to the bed.

He still lay on his stomach, but he peeked at her from under his arm. His eyes were open, but he squinted at her. His voice was rough, from sleep. “Bit early for that, don’t you think?”

Sansa stopped. She was abruptly aware of the way he looked at her. She was still naked. Her arm flew over her chest. She immediately realized it was silly, but there was no darkness left to cover her in the light of the morning.

She heard him chuckle lightly, but he didn’t take his eyes off of her.

She felt her ears warm as she continued to the bed, the stain on the fur. He groaned again and turned onto his back, putting his arms under his head.

“What are you doing?”

 _Gods, how embarrassing_. She avoided his eyes. “I have to cover it.” She poured the wine over the small stain and they both watched as it soaked into the fur.

He sighed. “What a waste of perfectly good wine.”

Sansa still avoided looking at him. She didn’t want to admit it to herself, but she was nervous to see him in the day, knowing everything she knew about him now. Him, knowing what he did about her. She moved about the room, gathering her things, feeling his gaze on her back.

“Sansa.” She didn’t stop moving about. She heard him sit up on the bed. “Sansa.”

“Hmmm?” She busied herself, slipping her shift back over her head.

“Is everything alright?”

She made herself look up at him. “I forgot a robe. Can you help me with my dress?”

He nodded and stood. Sansa turned away before the fur fell away from his lap. _Seven hells. What are you so afraid of? You were grabbing at it just a few hours ago!_ She ignored her thoughts and stepping into the dress. She got it over her shoulders before he came to her. They were quiet as he helped her lace it back up. He tightened it just enough for her to be able to make it back to her room.

He didn’t let go of her shoulders. He turned her around and her eyes were at his chest.

“Are you alright?” He asked again. His eyes searched hers, filled with concern.

_Gods. He probably thinks I’m regretting it. Stop acting so strange!_

She reached up on her toes and he bent down to kiss her. Any worry, any self-consciousness she might have been feeling slipped away when his lips moved against hers.

He pulled away after a moment, still holding her face close to his. She sighed. “Sorry. Everything is, perfect.” The tingling feeling in her stomach made her feel that she was telling the truth. “I was just, nervous, I guess, for you to see me.”

He laughed lightly, not cruelly. “You realize I’ve done _more_ than _see_ you like this, now. After last night?”

Sansa bit her lip and looked away. “Just, being stupid.”

He lifted her chin. “Not stupid. Never stupid.” He kissed her once and let go of her. “Adorable.”

He backed away, laughing, as she swung at him, something that was more difficult in the confines of her dress.

“Why are you so set on calling me that?” Her eyes widened at her voice. She lowered it. “It makes me feel like a little girl.”

He shook his head at her. “Trust me.” He nearly growled. “I haven’t thought of you as a little girl for quite some time.”

Sansa’s stomach dropped at his words. The way he looked at her, she wanted to rip the laces of her dress right off again and chase him back into the bed.

Instead she took a breath to calm herself. She found the key to her room and turned to leave. She opened the door slowly, checking to make sure it was empty again. It was.

“Wait.” She turned her head back to him. He was walking toward her with something in his hand. She put her hand out as he handed her the smallclothes that she nearly left there.

She felt her face turn red as she grabbed them and ran out the door. She was certain she heard him laughing as the door closed behind her.

 

Sansa made quick work of her dress with the pre-loosened ties and hung it over the back of the chair. She dropped her smallclothes to the floor and took off her shift. She padded over to her bed and slipped under the covers, just in time. The door opened as soon as her head hit the pillow.

She closed her eyes, feigning sleep. _Too close. Way too close._ _What would they have done if I wasn’t here!_

They started making noise around the room and Sansa opened her eyes.

“Where’s Shae?”

Anna looked up at her. “She had to make a trip to Winter Town this morning, Princess.”

“Winter Town? Did she say why?”

Anna shook her head. “No.”

Sansa chewed on that for a minute, and then she remembered. The toy maker. Sansa wondered if this wasn’t the first time she was seeing him again. Sansa smiled at the thought of Shae finding someone to love. But then she felt guilty. Shae was always there when Sansa needed to talk, but Sansa was so busy in her own thoughts that she hadn’t even thought twice about Shae. She would make a point to talk to her about it, when the time was right.

Sansa was quiet as they got her ready for the day. She couldn’t take her mind off of last night. Every second of it. The perfect ways he touched her, kissed her. The feeling the never knew she could have. _And all from the man I love._ It was perfect. _Nearly_ , she reminded herself. She got into the bath they made for her and continued thinking.

 _He doesn’t know I love him. And he never will, if I can help it._ Sleeping with him will complicate things enough. Telling him how she really felt would be useless and make it so much worse. Sansa knew in her heart that she was a fool for getting involved with him like this. Shae had warned her, too. But she didn’t care.

Sansa wasn’t stupid. She knew she had to marry Ser Gawen. She knew there would be nothing she could do to stop it now. She already gave her consent to her family. Her family. They need this match. They need to keep the North strong.

 _At least it’s not Ramsay Bolton. Gawen is handsome. He is kind. He will be a good husband, like father. Not like Joffrey at all._ Sansa sighed. _But not like Sandor either._ Sansa groaned and sunk down under the water.

She thought of last night and how easy it would have been to tell him how she felt about him.

But she knew those words would send him running for the Wall. _That is not why he in this. And you shouldn’t want him to be either._ She knew this wasn’t effecting him the way it was effecting her. He would get on fine with someone after her. _As long as it’s not Mallory. Why make him feel uncomfortable if this isn’t going to be permanent?_

There was a small part of her that wondered if he would want to keep this going, even after she was married. But she pushed the thought away. Lying to her betrothed was one thing. Sneaking around behind her husband’s back with another man was another thing entirely.

_Two weeks. That’s all you have with him and you better get used to it._

 

Even with all of the stress surrounding her, she couldn’t help but feel like she was walking on clouds for the rest of the day. Sansa felt like she was in a daze all day. She couldn’t stop thinking about Sandor. Whenever he was near her she wanted to grab his hand and drag him up to his room. She missed him when he was with Rickon. She knew he usually took a bath in his room after training with Rickon. She was with the twins before dinner and had an urge to sneak up there to be with him again. Surprise him. Maybe join him in the tub, if there was room.

“Sansa?” Roslin’s voice pulled her out of her daydream.

“Hmmm?”

“You’re all red. Are you alright?”

Sansa looked down at her chest. Her skin was on fire. “Oh. Just hot, I guess.”

“You seem distracted. Are you sure everything is alright?”

Sansa just nodded, but screamed at herself in her head. _Get a hold of yourself!_

She pushed the thought of being with him in the tub away, _for now._

When she had to see her family at dinner, she was convinced they would know something was different. She tried to focus on the conversation and take part when she could. Rickon told a joke and she laughed out loud at it. Perhaps a bit too forced, for everyone else at the table stopped laughing to stare at her. _Seven hells, what’s wrong with me?_ Sansa felt her skin flush for the thousandth time in the day as she took a deep sip of her wine. After that incident, she remained quiet for the most part. She found herself counting the seconds until they could be alone. A nervous excitement was building in her stomach, in her chest. She was sure she was going to burst from the anticipation. She wanted to leave, but in her mind she was convinced that they would know why she was leaving. She waited until Robb finally stood to leave and tried not to shoot up out of her chair the second he was out of his.

Finally, she and Sandor were walking up to their rooms. They stopped at hers first. She opened her door. She turned to him and looked at him in the eyes for what felt like the first time all day.

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

His mouth turned up at the corner. “Promise?”

She bit her lip and something fluttered in her stomach. “Promise.”

Sansa closed the door on him and kicked off her shoes immediately. She bent her arms behind her back and frantically pulled at the laces of her dress. She reached so hard that she gasped, a shooting pain went through her shoulder. She brought it back around. It didn’t pull out again, _thank the gods_. Sansa took a breath. _Calm yourself, Sansa. This isn’t a race._ Slowly, she pulled at the laces, until it began to loosen. She knew it would be easier if he helped her again, but she didn’t want to have to get back in it again in the morning. Finally, she was able to slip out of it. She took off her shift, her small clothes and found her robe on the wall. She slipped it on and tied it tight before grabbing the key and leaving the room. She locked the door behind her and practically ran to his room. It must have only been a minute, maybe two, since he left her at her room.

Sansa knocked on the door, just once and it opened immediately. The first thing she saw were his hands as he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her in the room. His mouth was on hers before she really even saw him. She could feel that he was still half dressed, tunic and breeches still on. His hands found the tie of her robe as she pulled at his breeches. He made quick work of her robe and pushed it off of her shoulders. It fell to the floor and her hands went back to his breeches. She slipped them down over his hips as they kissed. Before they hit the floor, he gathered her up in his arms and she wrapped herself around him, arms around his neck, legs around his waist. As far as she could tell he was hard before she even got in the room. She grabbed the fabric at his chest and pulled it up until it was almost over his head. She held on to him tight as he let go of her to take it off completely. He held onto her again and walked her over to the bed, clumsily, roughly kissing her the whole time. He let go of her and she fell back onto the bed.

She found herself giggling as he crawled on top of her. “And I thought _I_ was excited for this.” She laughed out loud as he smirked at her before quieting her with his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finished this during class. I could swear they can all hear my thoughts as I wrote the last paragraph oh my god.


	71. Chapter 71

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 900 FRIGGEN KUDOS!!!!!!!
> 
> THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH!!!  
> thank you for reading first of all, and commenting (btw if you haven't joined the comment party - you should think about it - we have lots of fun) aaaaand thank you for sticking with the story for so long!!  
> Can't believe this! I love you allll!!!!!
> 
> And as a gift - here - have some happy lemons.

Sansa

For the next few days, things were the same. Sansa was sure she’d never been happier in all her life. Tired. But happy.

They spent the days near each other when they could be, trading secret looks and smiles when they weren’t alone. When she was alone, when he was with Rickon, she still found herself thinking of him, wishing she was next to him again. Just to look at him. Just because it was easier to imagine the things they would do later.

She still didn’t have a chance to speak to Shae about anything. She seemed distant when she was around her, but Mallory and Anna were always there. Sansa needed to talk to her. She had to find out what was going on with her, as well as ask for some advice.

One morning, Shae was standing, staring into Sansa’s wardrobe for almost a whole minute until Sansa spoke up. “Anna. Mallory. Could you excuse Shae and I please?” She asked them.

The girls bent their heads and left. Shae didn’t even notice.

“Shae.”

At her name, Shae turned. She had a dazed look on her face, like her mind was not here in the room with her. Sansa had an idea of where it was. _In a certain toy shop with a certain toymaker perhaps?_

Sansa sat down on the bed. “Shae come here. Sit with me for a minute.”

She did.

“How are you? I feel like we haven’t spoken in forever.”

Shae nodded. “We haven’t really, have we?”

Sansa sighed. “What’s going on with you? You seem distracted.”

“Do I?” Shae blinked at her.

Sansa laughed. “Yes. You do.” She waited a moment, but Shae didn’t say anything. “I can’t help but think it might have to do with the man in the toy shop? Hmm?”

For the second time in all the years she knew her, Shae blushed.

Sansa pressed on. “His name?”

Shae sighed, but she couldn’t hide the smile that lit up her whole face. “Conall.”

“You’ve been going to see him then?” Shae nodded and Sansa scooted closer. “Tell me about him.”

Shae told her all about this Conall, the toymaker. He inherited the shop from his father. He was an only child, his mother died when he was young. His father taught him everything he knew and he grew up in the shop. His father died only just a few years ago.

“He’s got no family, like me.” Shae went on. “He’s alone really, except for friends. But he’s so – kind. So handsome. And he listens when I talk. It’s strange.” Shae smiled and shook her head. “It’s like I’ve known him forever already.”

Sansa smiled to herself. _I know the feeling._ “He sounds wonderful Shae. How much does he know – about you, your life I mean?”

“Are you asking if he knows I was a whore?”

 _Oh_. “No- well. Not exactly. Just – everything – all together.”

Shae laughed, for the first time in what felt like a very long time.

“I didn’t tell him everything about me. Just enough. No details of my past. Nothing about Tyrion.” Sansa nodded, encouraging her. “But I don’t know. It’s just – there’s something about him that makes me feel like I could tell him. In the future. The _distant_ future, if ever.”

“Shae, that is just fantastic.” She hugged her. “I’m so happy for you.” She pulled away and Shae was smiling, _shyly. Who is this person in front of me?_ “Shae, why haven’t you told me about him?”

Shae shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t want to bother you, with everything going on. I didn’t think it was important enough.”

Sansa grabbed her hand. “Of course it is.”

Shae squinted her eyes at her. “As important as the fact that, even though I warned you, you have been having sex with Sandor?”

Sansa’s eyes went wide. “What? Who – how do you- how?” She stumbled over her words but Shae just rolled her eyes.

“I’m not stupid Sansa. Did he hurt you?”

“Gods, Shae. No.” Then she remembered the first time. “Well, nothing that I wasn’t expecting. Just at first though.” She waited. “But after that, no. No hurt. Not even a little bit.”

Shae giggled at her and Sansa couldn’t look her in the eye.

“You’ve been at it every night haven’t you?”

Sansa closed her eyes. “Yes. How did you know?”

“Your sheets are always cold in the morning.”

“Do Anna and Mallory-“

“Know? No. You don’t think I would tell anyone do you?”

“No! Of course not!”

Shae sighed and leaned back on the bed with her hands. “Is it good?”

Sansa let out a short laugh. “Not like I have anything to compare it to, but yes. It’s incredible actually.”

Shae smiled at her. “Are you happy?”

Sansa felt herself nodding. “For the moment, yes. Very.” She clapped her hands together. “I’m avoiding thinking about my responsibilities and I am completely fine with that.”

Shae shook her head and laughed. “Good. You’ve had moon tea then?”

Sansa froze. “Sorry, what?”

“Moon tea.” Shae squinted her eyes. “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of it.”

“No, no, of course I have. I just never-“ Sansa stopped. _Seven hells, what was I thinking_! It was at least six – seven? – times now that Sandor had spilled his seed inside of her and she hadn’t even given it a thought. She’d just wanted him so badly. She never thought about those kind of consequences. She never imagined herself taking moon tea. Never imagined she would be having sex before she was married.

She gulped and looked at Shae. “Have you taken it?”

Shae nodded.

“What – what is it like. What does it really do?”

Shae let out a breath. “I’ve had some that tasted fine, some that tasted worse than acorn paste. But for me, usually within a day after drinking it, my moon blood would come.”

Sansa nodded. “And does it have an effect on anything, after?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t _think_ so. I never wanted to get pregnant Sansa. Never thought about it. Until now, really.”

Sansa would have been happy at the thought of Shae wanting to start a family with Conall, but now all she could think about was avoiding the same with Sandor.

“How often can you take it?”

Shae shrugged. “As often as you want, I think.”

Sansa couldn’t imagine herself drinking it more than once.

“Would – would it work if I drank it next week?”

Shae just nodded.

“Shae. Can I ask you for a huge favor? Can you please get some from Maester Luwin? He’s got to have it right?”

Shae nodded again. “Probably. I’ll have it sent up.” She made to move, but Sansa grabbed her arm.

“No! Shae, are you mad? No one can know it’s for me! Especially Maester Luwin.”

Shae sighed, realizing what Sansa was asking. “You want me to pretend it’s for me?” _Gods what a horrible friend I am_. Sansa found herself nodding.

Shae was quiet for a moment. She looked at Sansa. She almost looked disappointed. But she nodded her head.

Sansa threw her arms around her. “Thank you Shae. I know it’s horrible of me to ask.” She pulled away but held onto her shoulders. “Thank you.”

Shae just nodded softly and leaned further back on the bed so she was resting on her elbows.

“So, tell me about it.”

Sansa brought her knees up to her chest. “Really?”

“Only if you want to.” Sansa thought about it for a second. She didn’t _know_ if she wanted to. The things that happened in Sandor’s room were so – _intimate_. So private. Even sharing them with Shae might feel like betraying something she and Sandor shared.

Shae seemingly picked up on her reluctance. “Well, if you won’t tell me anything, at least tell me you’ve tried different ways.”

“What do you mean? Are there-“ Sansa felt her eyes shift to the side. “ _More_ – ways?”

Shae bit back a smile and raised her eyebrows. “Yes there are _more ways_. Would you like me to tell you?”

Before Sansa could protest, Shae began her speech. She went into a long list of different positions, maneuvers and tricks that left Sansa blushing like she never knew she could. Shae swung her feet against the bed innocently as if the words that came tumbling out of her mouth were a recipe for a lemon cake.

_I can’t do that! Can I?_

_She’s got to be kidding. Won’t that hurt?_

_No! I’ll pull out my shoulder again!_

_What’s the point if I can’t even see him?_

All of these thoughts Sansa kept inside as Shae went on. That was until the last one. “Hold on. With my _mouth_?!”

Shae nodded before doubling over in laughter. Sansa had to join her. She never imagined there were so many ways of a man and woman pleasuring each other. Shae wiped away tears from her laughter as she looked at Sansa.

“If you try even one of those, Sandor will be a very happy man.”

Sansa laughed. “If you try _half,_ Conall will close up shop.”

The two of them laughed so hard that Sansa barely heard the knock at the door. Shae got up to answer it and Sansa covered her mouth to stifle the laugh that threatened to rip her sides open.

“Oh well look who it is!” Shae yelled through her laughter.

Sandor was at the door, with a terribly confused look on his face.

“What are you two going on about?” He asked, his eyes squinted, focused on Sansa.

“Oh nothing.” Shae patted him on the shoulder as she squeezed past him through the doorway. “You may want to take a nap at some point today, friend.”

“Shae!” Sansa put her face in her hands and listened to Shae chuckling as she walked down the hall.

She peeked through her fingers at him where he waited.

“What was that about?”

Sansa dropped her hands to her sides and tried to avoid his eye. “Ummm.”

“Sansa?” He looked concerned. “Is everything alright?”

“No – I mean, yes. Of course. Uhh – yes.”

“Can you talk to me about it?”

Sansa gulped down a nervous giggle that threatened its escape. She shook her head. “I’ll tell you later.”

_Show, more like._

Sansa ignored the look he gave her as she pushed past him. There was one position that didn’t sound too difficult or complicated that she thought she might want to try later on. She’d practically done it too, she realized, that was until he moved on top of her. She wondered if he’d ever tried any of these ways. Not only that, but what he would think if she suggested it.

* * *

 

 Sandor

_What the fuck was that about?_

Sandor knew that Shae knew about them, but is Sansa telling her everything? He didn’t know how he felt about that.

He thought about it for the rest of the day, watching her in the morning. He decided he might talk to her about it later, when they were alone. _But then, do I really want to waste time with talking?_

Before he was to leave to practice with Rickon, she stopped him.

“I think I’d like to come watch you in the yard today.” She smiled. “You and Rickon I mean.”

“Alright.”

“I’ll meet you there.” She smiled and skipped off.

Sandor went to get Rickon and told him when they were walking through the corridor.

“Your sister’s going to watch you practice. You better bring your best.”

Rickon raised his eyebrows at him. “You don’t have to tell _me_ that. Whenever she’s there you can’t even think straight.” Sandor watched him as he clasped his hands together and brought them up to his chest. “You’re so blinded by your _loooove_.”

Sandor stopped him and put a finger in his chest. Rickon just laughed and pushed it away. “Remember what I said, little wolf. You don’t talk about that around anyone besides me.”

“I remember, relax!” He chuckled again. “Do you see anyone else around?”

Sandor glanced down the hall. It was empty, but for them and Shaggydog. He sighed. “Just – shut your mouth about it.”

Sansa was there when they arrived. She was propped up, sitting on a fence waiting for them.

He couldn’t rightly focus on what he was doing, once they got started, with her sitting there looking like _that_.

Even in her heavy, fur lined cloak he could still see the shape of her underneath. Or maybe he was just imagining it. It was only a few days and he felt like he already knew her body so well.

He wanted to grab her, toss her over his shoulder and carry her up to his room. He wanted to bolt the door and kill the person who tried to disrupt them.

He barely heard Rickon as he groaned in apparent frustration.

“Sandor! I told you this would happen.”

“Rickon. _Don’t_.” He growled.

“Sansa, go away will you? You’re distracting him again!”

Sansa’s mouth popped open and for a moment he thought she might yell back at Rickon. But she just covered her mouth and laughed.

“Very well, then.” She smiled as she hopped off of the fence and onto the ground. “Sorry for the distraction, _boys_. I’ll see you both at dinner then.”

Sandor watched her walked away.

“Nice Rickon. Very subtle.”

“What! Was I wrong?”

 _Little shit._ Sandor groaned and swung his sword at Rickon, who caught it in midair with his own.

A wide smile spread across Rickon’s face. “Now _that’s_ what I’m talking about!”

 

With the way he thought about her all day, Sandor found it more and more difficult to wait for her as she changed into her robe. When he got her to her room after dinner he was ready to pick her up and carry her right to his room. But she stopped at her room as she always did. She looked like she was trying to say something.

“What is it?”

She bit her lip and looked up at him.

“Come back in – in five minutes.”

And she closed her door on him.

 _Her room?_ They hadn’t done it in her room yet. He wondered why the change. He got to his room and had his boots and doublet off in under a minute. He poured himself a cup of wine and paced the room while he waited.

He looked at his bed. Where she’d been laying with him every night. When he thought about it, when she wasn’t around him, he found that he was convincing himself that any of this was actually happening. He still couldn’t believe it. But when he was with her, over her, inside of her, it just made sense.

He had the fur cleaned the other day. She was smart, hiding it with the wine. No one asked any questions and it came back, good as new. He felt horribly guilty, knowing that it was him who made her bleed, but she was right. He couldn’t imagine the Glover boy doing it. His fists clenched just at the thought.

He tried not to, but he couldn’t help it. He was internally counting down the days that they had left together now. They were leaving in just ten days now. _And then she’s his._

Sandor gripped his cup and downed the rest of the wine in one gulp.

That had to have been five minutes. At least.

Sandor dropped the cup and opened his door, checking first to make sure the dark corridor was empty. He made his way to her room as quietly and as quickly as he could.

He knocked on the door.

“Come in.” He heard her say, quietly.

He opened the door and his eyes went to the bed, expecting to see her there. But it was empty.

 _Seven fucking hells._ She was kneeling on a pile of furs by the fire, facing him. No dress. No shift. No robe. _Just her._ Just the way he wanted her. _She’s a feast._

She held out her hand, her perfectly blue eyes hooded in the best way possible. “Come here.”

Sandor walked over to the furs, standing on them and then knelt in front of her.

He didn’t touch her for a moment. He just looked at her. She smiled softly, but bit it away. Her hands moved to his chest and pulled up his tunic. He helped her get it off of the rest of him.

Her hands slid down his chest as she looked at him. She moved closer and kissed him. His shoulder. His arm. His chest. And then he realized what she was doing. _She’s kissing my scars._ She looked up at him then, up at his face.

“They don’t hurt.” He said. “Not anymore.”

Her hands moved to his shoulders and he wrapped his arms around her waist. She kissed his jaw, the scarred side. His cheek. Above his eye. “I know.” She whispered.

Sandor never imagined anyone would ever be able to look at his scars the way she did, let alone go seeking them out to kiss with her perfect, delicate mouth. His hands slid up the rest of her body, feeling the smooth, silkiness of her skin. He stopped when he got to her neck and moved her face to his.

They kissed like that for a while, hands roaming all over each other. The past few nights with her felt rushed. He liked that they were taking this slow right now. Not that he was over the new-ness of it, but he was beginning to realize that it was better, the longer they took with it.

Her hands slid down his chest again and pulled at his breeches. In another minute, they were beside them on the floor as he hovered over her. They were both as ready as they would ever be, but she stopped him.

“Wait.” She put a hand on his chest, pushing him back. “I want to try something.”

“What?” He sat up on his knees again, and she followed him.

She pushed him back. “Lay down.”

He did as he was bid, almost afraid to ask her what was going through her mind.

She looked down at him for a second. He saw her take a deep breath. She crawled up and over him, putting her legs on either side of him. She sat up and kneeled. She was straddling him. His mind went back to that time the other night when she had done something similar, the night he pushed her away. But this was different. _Much different._

She took his length in her hand and rubbed over it with her thumb. Sandor felt a rumbling in his chest and it came out as a groan. He watched her bite her lip and smile. She sat up higher on her knees and positioned herself over him. She bent her body over his and pushed down, filling herself with him. He heard a sharp intake of breath and he felt like he was farther inside of her than he ever had been. He’d never been with a woman like this before. _When the fuck did she learn this one now?_ He didn’t know how long he would be able to last for her.

She rested her hands on the ground on either side of his head and waited, just feeling him there. She moved once, gasping again as she did. Then she closed her eyes and kissed him. His hands were on her back, her neck, in her hair, as she slowly moved against him. Her hair fell all around his face. As small as she was, on top of him, it felt like he was drowning in her.

She pulled away after a minute and repositioned herself. She put her hands on his chest as she started to rock against him, back and forth. Her eyes her closed and her head was tilted back. He watched her as she moved, seeing more of her this way than he could before. He could see all of her. His hands gripped her waist. Next to the fire as they were, he could see a drop of sweat fall from her neck. He watched it fall, slowly over her freckled skin as she moved against him. It fell over her chest, between her breasts, down her stomach and down to where their bodies met. He dug his fingers into her thighs, her arse as he helped her move faster.

He could feel the change in her, as he felt her muscles clench. He could see it in the flat of her stomach. She started to breath heavier, deeper, faster. Her mouth opened as she came, a soft moan escaping her pink lips. And then he couldn’t take it anymore. He sat up to meet her mouth and she wrapped herself around him, arms and legs gripping onto him, as tight as anything. She put her face into his neck as she finished with a shudder. He held her there, moving her against him, finding a quicker pace, until there was no more waiting. He felt himself bite into her shoulder as he came inside of her.

They stayed there for a moment, holding onto each other. Hearts hammering against each other, sweat from the heat of each other and the fire, meeting and mixing.

His bite on her shoulder turned into kiss. He kissed his way up her neck and behind her ear. She sighed when he stopped.

He breathed into her ear and felt her shudder again. “Sorry, for that.”

“For what?” She was still breathless.

“Biting you.” He let go of her and fell onto his back. She fell with him and rearranged herself. He slipped out of her and she piled herself onto his chest. His hands found the small of her back and traced her there in circles.

“Don’t apologize for that.” She said. “I liked it.”

“Did you now?”

She nodded, shyly.

“Then, how about this.” He kissed her and then moved his mouth along her jaw, slowly, until he got to her neck. He moved his tongue over her skin, loving the way she gasped when he did. She tasted like salt from the sweat that still dripped from her skin. Slowly, gently he sunk his teeth into her. He swore he could feel the chills that ran through her body.

“Mmm. I guess it’s _alright_.” She said.

He pulled away to look at her and she was smiling.

“How about this.” She gestured to her body on top of his. “Was that alright for you?”

Sandor shrugged, feigning the same disinterest as she did. “I guess it was _alright_.”

She put her forehead on his chest and laughed. Her body shook against his and soon he was laughing with her.

She looked up at him. “I might have to try a few of the other things Shae told me about this morning then.”

“Shae?” _Right._ “So that’s what she meant then, about napping?”

Sansa nodded. She wasn’t blushing. The better they got to know each other, the less he saw of the red in her face. _I’m going to miss it,_ he realized.

He sighed. “You know what it means, if we’re not both _completely_ pleased?”

“Hmmm?” Sansa tilted her head, understanding his sarcasm. “What does it mean?”

He smirked before finding her neck again. “We better practice.”

* * *

Sansa

Sansa was used to these dreams that she had with Sandor now. They usually were just exaggerated events of what had been happening every night together in his room. But this one felt different. Better. Too real.

She opened her eyes and the feeling between her legs didn’t go away. She turned her head. She was in her bed, but he wasn’t there next to her.

_Where is- oh._

Sansa looked down and her eyes snapped open completely.

The furs weren’t covering them and she had a perfect view of Sandor’s head between her legs. She gasped when she realized what he was doing. He was _kissing_ her. _Down there._ His tongue was warm and wet against her sensitive flesh. His hand was under her, gripping her bottom, the other worked along with his mouth in between her legs.

She leaned back and hit the pillow again with a sigh.

He peeked up at her then, sensing that she was awake. He pulled his head away and smiled at her. “Good morning.” His voice was a low growl from his chest that made her shudder, even before he went back to his work.

Sansa gasped and looked up at the ceiling. It was a very strange feeling, this happening to her in the bed she slept in as a child. She pushed the thought away. She gripped the covers of the bed on her sides as she felt the feeling build inside of her. Different then when he was there inside. More tingling, not as overpowering, but dizzying all the same.

It came and she couldn’t help the whimper that fell from her mouth. It lasted longer than it ever had before as she arched against him. When it finally, slowly, faded away, he didn’t stop and the feeling was overwhelming. She couldn’t stand it for another second. She reached down and pushed his head away and scooted up toward the headboard.

He sat up and watched her catch her breath. He smirked and licked his bottom lip.

Before she even gave it a second thought, she pushed him down against the bed and was on top of him, and he was inside of her.

She was so dazed that she just let him do most of the work as he moved her hips and she knelt there over him, her hands on his chest. It was going to happen again, she could feel it. With the way he looked at her, the way he breathed, she knew he was close too.

And then she heard the door knob rattle. They both froze and looked at the door. It was bolted. _Thank the gods._ She didn’t even realize. It was light in the room. Morning. _Shit._ She went to get off of him but he held her there. She looked back at him and he shook his head. A wicked smile on his face.

His hand moved to the sensitive nub on her right above where they were connected. His thumb moved in slow circles as she rode against him.

“Princess! Is everything alright?” It was Mallory. _Oh fuck off Mal!_ She wanted to yell.

Instead, she yelled back. “Yes! I’m coming!”

Sandor barked out a sharp laugh, too loud, she covered his mouth with her hand as she realized the poor choice of words.

She bit back a laugh as she felt it happen. His hand reached up and found her mouth, to stop the noises that he knew by now she couldn’t help but make. She pressed harder on his mouth when she felt him spill inside of her. Not a second too soon, when they were finished, he lifted her off of him and she fell onto her hands next to him. He got off the bed, but not before giving her a good smack on the arse.

Sansa yelped and shot him a look as he silently chuckled and disappeared underneath the bed.

“Princess.” It was Anna. “What is taking so long, are you sure you’re alright?”

“Be right there!” Sansa pulled the covers up on the bed. She frantically threw the furs onto the bed. She gasped when she saw his clothes. She slid them across the floor to the bed and watched as his hand pulled them under and into the darkness. Sansa looked down on her naked self. _Oh seven hells._ There were bite marks covering her shoulders, her chest, her breasts, from Sandor’s _practicing_ last night.

“Princess!”

She found her robe on the wall and got it over her shoulders just as she got to the door. The three of them stood there staring at her. Anna with concern, Mallory in confusion, but Shae just rolled her eyes.

“What happened? Why did you bolt the door?” Anna asked her.

“I – I had a nightmare. Got up in the middle of the night to do it. Sorry.”

Mallory squinted her eyes at her when she entered the room. “What was that noise?”

Sansa froze. “What noise?”

“You tell me. It sounded like a laugh.”

Sansa felt ice go through her veins. “Oh - no. That?” Sansa coughed, as deeply as she could. “That was just me.” She coughed again to solidify her argument, but she had a feeling she was just making it worse.

Shae groaned. “Why do you care, Mallory? She’s fine. Just get to work.”

When Shae passed her, she reached out and tugged the shoulder of her robe up to cover the skin there. Sansa mouthed a ‘thank you’ to her. Shae just rolled her eyes again before looking around the room. Mallory went to the bed to strip it of the covers. Sansa poked Shae in the shoulder. Shae leapt forward. “I’ll take care of the bed today Mallory. Just clean up the table for now.”

Mallory’s brow furrowed, but luckily she did as she was told. One of her furs didn’t make it to the bed. Sansa watched as Shae bent _down to pick it up off the floor._

Shae yelped and dropped the fur. Sansa cringed. She must have seen him _. Gods, Shae don’t bring any attention over there!_

“What happened!” Mallory shouted, caught off guard by Shae’s exclamation.

Shae took a breath and put her hands on her hips. She shook her head. “Nothing. I just thought I saw a _rat_.”

Mallory and Anna turned away and got back to their work. Sansa watched as Shae put sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Girls, could you go get the water for the bath ready please?”

Mallory began to protest, her arms full of things to be cleaned, but Shae cut her off.

“Just go. Please.”

Sansa was frozen to the spot as the girls shuffled out behind her.

They waited until the door was closed and their footsteps retreated into the distance.

“Thank you Shae.”

Shae let out a laugh, walked away from the bed, and put her hand over her eyes.

“Just make him put on some clothes, please.”

Sansa felt herself flush as she rushed over to the bed as he was coming out. She helped him stand and watched him as he dressed. He glanced at Shae and saw that her eyes were still covered. He bent down and kissed her.

“All set.” He said as he pulled away. Shae turned and avoided his eye.

“Let’s get you out of here.” She walked toward the door and he followed. Shae went into the hall and held her finger making sure it was clear, before waving him out of the room and away back to his own.

Sansa breathed in relief as Shae closed the door behind her.

“Let’s not make a habit of this, Sansa.”

Sansa felt herself smile at her words. “Too late.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY LEMONS!
> 
> Happy lemons! Get your happy lemons here! Get em' while they're fresh! Get em' before they're gone!


	72. Chapter 72

Sansa

Sansa couldn’t focus on anything during the day. Every time she looked at Sandor, her eyes went wide and her face was hot, remembering what he did that morning.

She wanted to ask him about it later, but she was almost afraid to.

The third time he caught her staring he laughed out loud and she was sure her face was as red as her hair.

When he left for practice with Rickon, Sansa could barely stand it. She thought about going to watch him, but didn’t want to get yelled at by Rickon again. She still smiled thinking that she had the power to distract Sandor that way. But Rickon noticed and she didn’t want to make it an issue.

Instead, Sansa told Roslin that she wasn’t feeling well and she retired to her room under the pretense of an afternoon nap.

Sansa went to her room and waited until a few minutes before he usually returned. She peeked out her door and saw the servants leaving his room carrying empty water buckets.

_Perfect._

Sansa waited until the hall was clear before she made her way to his door. She slipped inside and closed it behind her.

The tub was there in the middle of the room, the hot water creating steam over the surface.

She knew he would be there any minute. She pulled at the laces on her dress until they were loose enough for her to slip it off of her. She undressed completely and placed her clothing on the back of the chair. The top half of her hair was pinned back in a braid. She rearranged the pins and lifted the rest of her hair off of her neck so that her hair wouldn’t touch the water. She padded over to the tub and stepped in, her back to the door.

She sat back and rested her arms along the side. The water was still hot and perfect. She could only imagine how perfect it would feel with him in it too.

As if on cue, the door opened. For a second, Sansa questioned if it was him, and her heart stopped at the thought of trying to explain herself out of this one had it not been.

But as the footsteps stopped right in the doorway, she knew it was him.

She heard him grumbling. Sounded almost like _seven fucking hells_ , but she couldn’t be sure. She heard the bolt close down on the door. She smiled and kept her eyes closed as she heard him step around to her.

She thought of his greeting to her in the morning and smiled as she opened her eyes. “Good Afternoon.”

He was standing there, a half-smile on his face, shaking his head. She watched him as he took in the sight of her through the clear water.

“I was hoping you would let me join you during your bath today.”

Sandor laughed, only a half laugh. Almost as if in disbelief. “You want me to come in there. With you?”

“Mhmm.” She moved her hands over the surface, through the steam.

“That’s not going to happen, girl.”

Sansa’s face fell. “Why not?” _Is he rejecting me?_

He laughed in the same way again. Sansa felt an all new blush rise to her cheeks. _He’s rejecting me!_ Suddenly she wanted to hide underneath the water. She would have too, if he didn’t crouch down to her and stop her.

“Believe me. It’s not that I don’t want to.” He rested his arms on the side of the tub. He reached his hand into the water and moved his fingers over her shoulder. Even in the heat of the water, she shivered. He continued. “But, I barely fit in this tub on my own.”

Sansa took her eyes off of him to take in the size of the tub. “Oh.” She could fit into it perfectly fine. Three of her could fit comfortably. But she was nearly less than half of the size of him. She could picture it before, but with him there, in his hulking size, she knew it wasn’t possible. “Well, it was a nice thought wasn’t it.”

“Hmmm.” She looked back at him, and he was looking down into the bath, watching her chest rise and fall as she breathed. He put his head down on his arm and groaned in apparent frustration. “I still have to wash though.”

Sansa stood and let the water fall over her. “That can wait, surely.”

He shook his head and stood. “No little bird. I stink worse than the sewers of Flea Bottom.”

She reached her arms out and grabbed the front of his tunic, wet with sweat. “No you don’t.”

He smiled at her but peeled her hands away from him. “I do. And I need to wash.” He still held her wrists in his hands, chewing on his lip, thinking. “Wait for me? Just a few minutes.”

Sansa sighed. “Fine. If you insist.” He picked up a towel and wrapped it around her, closing her in his steel grip. He lifted her up and out of the tub as easily as if she were a flower he plucked from the ground. He brought her near the bed and set her on the ground. He put his hands on her shoulders and made her sit on the bed.

“There. Don’t move.”

She watched him as he peeled off his wet tunic and threw it on the floor, followed soon by his muddy breeches and smallclothes.

She was used to seeing him naked now. It made her smile, thinking of how comfortable they already were in front of each other. When they were naked together though, she wasn’t so much focused on watching him as she was on what they were doing together. But from the distance, she could watch him. Appreciate him. He stepped into the tub and sat. She giggled.

He looked up at her as he grabbed the soap. “What?”

“You’re right. No way we would have fit in there together.”

He smirked at her and went back to his task, washing off the sweat and dirt from his afternoon. Sansa watched his hand and the soap lather up on his face and head. He dunked under the water to rinse and started again on his chest, under his arms. And then she wasn’t close enough. She secured the towel under her arms and got off of the bed. She knelt down next to him, reached in and took the soap from his hand.

“What are you doing?”

She ignored him scooted behind him, moving the bar of soap over his shoulders, his back.

She heard him laugh, a half-laugh again. Without real humor. “What is it?”

“The Princess of Winterfell, giving her dog a bath.”

Sansa felt her face scrunch up and she gripped the soap. “Don’t call yourself that.”

She saw his shoulders rise and fall as he sighed. But he remained silent after that. She continued lathering up his skin, moving down his arms. She looked at him. He was completely relaxed. She looked back at his arm. She could have sworn he was flexing, tightening his muscles. But he wasn’t. _It’s like he’s cut from stone. Marble_. She started to feel warm at the thought. She remembered watching him in the stream. The feeling she had when the soap bubbles from his washing had drifted toward her in the water and brushed against her legs. She had the same warm feeling then, but didn’t know what it was. Only now did she understand.

At some point, Sansa dropped the soap into the water and just started trailing her fingers over him, feeling his iron strength almost pulsating through his skin and into her fingertips. She could feel his eyes on her, but couldn’t bring herself to look away from his body.

At some point, she heard him clear his throat.

“I think that’s clean enough.”

She looked up at him. His eyes were steel. She felt herself nod. She stood and waited as he sunk under the water as best as he could to rinse.

He stood and reached out to her. He grabbed the towel right off of her and she didn’t even react.

“Get in the bed.”

Sansa felt a small breath escape her lips. She blinked and shook her head. She turned around and climbed into the bed, lying down on her back. She watched him as he quickly dried the excess water from his head, his face. He stepped out and dropped the towel and she didn’t move.

She watched him come to her, her heart threatening to burst from her chest. He got to the bed and climbed on top of her. She couldn’t help herself. She reached out to his chest and moved her fingers across him. He was still damp. She slid her hands down to the marble slab that was his stomach, feeling the curves and peaks of muscle there.

He grabbed her chin and made her look at him. His eyes searched hers for a moment before he kissed her. They kissed slowly, softly almost, and as deeply as ever. Usually he would turn to her neck, her chest, move his lips and his tongue over the rest of her. Usually she was breathless. But he stayed at her mouth and they both breathed evenly and deeply as they kissed.

After what felt like forever, and not long enough, he pulled away. His eyes searched hers, his hand moved up to her face. She felt the callousness of his thumb brush underneath her eye. He was waiting, she realized. And she nodded.

Sansa couldn’t explain to herself what it was. But it felt different. They were quiet. Nearly silent. She could hear every breath he took as he moved inside of her. They kissed, but not constantly. More than anything, they just watched each other. His hand was still on her face, and her hands found his, moving across the ruined mess of his flesh that she loved so much. They came together, nearly at the same time, after the slow and steady pace he set for them.

They didn’t speak after. Not as they lay there wrapped up in each other, until she knew she had to leave. Not as he helped her back into her dress. Not before or after he kissed her and sent her on her way into the empty hallway.

_What was that?_

A very stark difference from the rushed and almost impersonal tryst they shared in the morning, that much was certain. She felt dazed as she got herself ready for dinner. She barely even noticed that her door was left open when she got to it. _Did I do that?_

When Sandor came to bring her down, they still didn’t say anything to each other. As they walked down the hall, he was behind her and she could have sworn she felt a tug on the skirt of her dress. But when she turned he was looking forward, his hands at his sides.

He pulled her chair out for her when they got to dinner. She plopped down and he pushed it in for her.

She stared at her plate as it was filled with food. But she didn’t move. She didn’t touch it.

She felt herself get pushed to the side. “Sansa!” She blinked and looked up.

“Hmmm?”

Everyone at the table was staring at her. Roslin who sat next to her, was the one that pushed her on the shoulder.

She looked at her. Her face was full of concern. “Sansa are you alright?”

“Of course. Why?”

Her eyes shifted to the side. “Your mother has been calling you for the past minute, at least. You must really not be feeling well.”

“Hmmm.” She sighed in agreement.

“Yes, Sansa.” Catelyn said. “I heard from Roslin that you were feeling unwell, so I came to your room to check on you, but you weren’t there.” Sansa felt ice in her veins. “Where were you?”

“Hmmm?” She was frozen. She couldn’t even open her mouth.

“I said, where were you? You weren’t in your room, this afternoon.”

Sansa gulped. She looked around the table. _Oh gods no. Please. Think of something. Anything._

“I was – I umm – I needed some fresh air. I went to the crypt.” _The crypt. Yes. Perfect._

Robb laughed. “The crypt? For _fresh_ air?”

 _Oh buggering hells._ “Well, yes – you see, the walk, to the crypt. That’s where – I umm – the fresh air – yes.” Sansa felt the walls closing in on her, with the eyes of her family watching her every move. She could hear Sandor’s boots shuffle against the ground behind her _. Oh gods he’s cracked too. They know._ She looked at Rickon, he squinted his eyes above her head. He’s looking at Sandor. Rickon knew how they looked at each other. _He’s going to tell them. Oh gods. Rickon, please. Please keep your mouth shut._

But of course, he didn’t.

“Sansa. Just tell them.”

She shook her head, violently. _It’s over. It’s all over. They’re going to execute us both._

“It’s alright, they’ll understand.”

“Rickon. Don’t.” She nearly snarled at him.

Rickon sighed and slumped his shoulders. “She won’t tell you because she thinks you’ll be disappointed-”

“Rickon!” She stood and slammed her hands against the table.

“-in me.” He finished.

_What?_

Sansa sat back down as Rickon spoke.

“She was with me.” Rickon hung his head. “I asked her to help me with my letters. I know I fell behind, living away for so long. It’s embarrassing, and Maester Luwin only has so much time. Sansa’s been helping me, reading with me, when she has the time.” He looked up at her, like the little puppy he was. “Don’t be mad at her. She lied because I asked her to.”

The table erupted in words of kindness and reassurance for her little brother. Sansa just sat back against her chair in complete awe.

She and Sandor were still silent on the way up to his room. She didn’t even bother getting her robe. She just went to his room.

“Are you alright?”

She just nodded. “I think I’m just, tired.” She looked up at him. “Can I still sleep here?”

He laughed lightly at her. “Do you think I’ll only let you sleep next to me if you spread your legs?”

Sansa shook her head, laughing awkwardly. She sighed and looked up at him. “Rickon saved us back there, didn’t he?”

Sandor breathed in deeply. “Little wolf is good for something after all.”

Sansa wondered why he would have done it. She decided that she would have to talk to him, but she was too tired to think of it now.

"We ought to be more careful." She told him.

"Says the girl who showed up in my room in the middle of the day."

Sansa ignored the blush that she could feel on her cheeks and rolled her eyes. Sandor helped her out of her dress before they undressed together. They both got into the bed. He laid back and opened up his arm for her to nestle into his chest. She wrapped her leg around his and they sighed together as they settled in for the night. It didn’t take too long though, for the warmth low in her belly to return. And she climbed on top of him.

He laughed lightly as she kissed him. “And I thought you were tired.”

This time wasn’t exactly like before, but it still reminded her of it. That, or she just couldn’t stop thinking about it. When they were finished, she collapsed onto his chest. Her ear against his heart, she listened to it slow, listened to his breathing steady along with hers.

Before she drifted off to sleep, a thought hit her.

Since that first night she slept in his bed, _I haven’t had another nightmare._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can thank Mr. Fancy Kid for the muscle fascinated inspired lemons in this chapter. Dudes been working out again sooooo.....
> 
> oh hi yes i'm here.  
> welp. thoughts???


	73. Chapter 73

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you thank you thank you for 50+ bookmarks!!!!   
> Sending out electronic hugs to all of you!!

Sansa

Waking up that morning was much different than the last.

She could feel him through every inch of her skin that touched him, before she even opened her eyes. Her face was against his chest, rising and falling with the breaths he took. Her torso was on top of his, their legs a tangled mess underneath the furs. His hand was moving in slow circles on her lower back and Sansa knew she had never been so comfortable in her life.

She hummed as she woke, opening her eyes. She looked up and the first thing she saw was his eyes, watching her. His other arm was under his head, propping it up against the pillows.

“Sorry.” She mumbled into his chest.

He inhaled deeply before he spoke. “For what?”

“Falling asleep on you.”

He just shook his head. “Not anything to apologize for.”

As if to prove his point, his arm tightened around her and she felt herself nestle into him. They were quiet for a moment, as he continued to rub her back. She felt herself start to fade back to sleep, until he spoke again.

“It’s later than usual.” She opened her eyes and groaned, content on ignoring him. “I’ve been waking up before you recently.”

 _He has been, hasn’t he?_ Sansa was always an early riser, but with the new exciting and physically draining activities taking up her nights, and days now, she figured it would make sense to feel more tired.And then Sansa remembered how she woke up the morning before. She wanted to wait for the cover of darkness to ask him, so he wouldn’t see the crimson of her cheeks, but she had to know.

She looked up at him again, her chin in his chest.

“Speaking of waking up before me, what you did yesterday – have you – have you done that a lot?”

He smiled softly at her but at least he had the decency not to laugh. “Been on your mind, has it?”

She ignored the jibe and waited for an answer, feeling the unmistakable heat of the blush on her face. He sighed. “No. I haven’t.” He said, finally answering her.

“Oh.” She chewed on that for a minute. “So, have you ever done that before?”

He just looked at her, and shook his head. His hand stopped moving against her back.

“Then – how did you – how did you know what to do?”

She didn’t know if she should have felt sorry or proud that she was making him slightly uncomfortable. He looked over to the side and shrugged. “I don’t know. You were – just lying there, humming in your sleep, moaning-“ Sansa’s face was on fire, she was sure of it. She wished she never asked. She remembered the dream she had, and why she must have been making those sounds. _This is so embarrassing_. “And then you said my name.” _Oh seven hells, Sansa._ “I don’t know. I looked at you, I

I just –“ He looked back at her. “I wanted to do it and I did.” That was all she was going to get from him on that, she realized. But he went on.

“You liked it, I assume.”

She put her forehead against his chest and nodded, ever so slightly. He chuckled a little, shaking underneath him. His hand went back to rubbing her back.

“I’ll have to remember that, then.”

* * *

Sandor

For the next several days, they couldn’t get enough of each other. Sandor went through his days thinking of her. Only her. They spent every night together, wrapped up in each other, sometimes rushed, so they could do it again. And again.

One night he couldn’t even wait for her to take off her robe. He grabbed her before she could even get into his room on her own. He didn’t even bolt the door. He’d already taken off everything but his breeches. She pulled at the laces with fumbling fingers and he yanked at the tie on her robe. It came undone in one movement. It was far enough. He lifted her by her hips and she wrapped her legs around him. He pushed her against the wall and took her right there. They both finished in under a minute, still half-dressed and not even more than two steps into his room.

They were fucking, every chance they got. But every time he thought of the word, it felt so wrong. That’s not something this could be referred to. Not with her. That’s all it ever was in his life before her. Not now. He didn’t know how to describe it. He tried not to think about the fact that it was all going to be over in a few days. But he figured that’s what it was that made them so hungry for each other.

There were times that he thought it was all on his side. But if that were the case, she wouldn’t be showing up to his room in the middle of the day.

Sandor was exhausted. But he didn’t care. He could sleep when she was married to someone else. His exhaustion was apparent in his training with Rickon. Rickon was frustrated with him, but thankfully he kept his mouth shut. He could have gotten more sleep

He knew she was tired too. She was sleeping in later than him now. Once he had to shake her to wake her up. He swore she was still sleeping when she walked back to her room. That night, he suggested to her that they slow down, maybe take a break. She responded by pouncing on him, pushing him back onto the bed and covering his mouth with hers.

It was at dinner with her family that her exhaustion was clearly apparent. She didn’t drink any wine anymore. It would just make her more tired, he supposed. Her eating habits were starkly different. She either picked at it on her plate like the little bird she was, or she was ravenous, gobbling up every morsel and crumb in front of her.

When he watched her eat like that, he had a vision of Cersei, eating that way whenever she was carrying one of her brother’s whelps. Sandor and Sansa hadn’t talked about it, but he figured she would take care of it. He figured Shae must know and must be helping her. Maybe that was irresponsible of him though, to think that she should be expected to know what to do. To be sure though, he realized he would have to talk to her about it.

Deep inside of him, somewhere that he wouldn’t even let himself think about if the small thought popped up, he felt almost guilty. Sandor never thought of having children of his own. It just wasn’t something he ever thought would happen, never something he cared enough to think about. _But with her?_ How could he want to _prevent_ creating a new life with _her_?

 _Because she’s not yours_ , he constantly reminded himself. He never let the thought go past that.

She was eating that way tonight. He was almost surprised when she didn’t pick up her plate and lick it clean. Like the other times, after eating like this, she would become quiet, clearly struggling to keep her head up. This time though, after a few minutes, he watched her slowly slump into her chair. _Is she sleeping?_ Sandor couldn’t ignore Rickon’s eyes flickering between her in her chair and Sandor on the wall behind her, but he said nothing.

It wasn’t until the little queen went to address Sansa directly that anyone noticed her.

“Sansa.” Roslin reached her hand out and poked Sansa’s shoulder. Sansa didn’t respond. “She’s asleep!”

Her look of concern was multiplied by everyone at the table. Rickon’s eerie, and somewhat judgmental, stare bore into Sandor.

“Sandor?” It was Robb.

“Yes, Your Grace?”

“What has been going on with her recently? She’s been so tired, so distracted.” He shook his head, trying to process the information for himself, it seemed. “Do you know what it could be?”

Sandor was glad Sansa was asleep for this. He once told her that everyone in King’s Landing was a better liar than she. It was clear from the incident from which she needed Rickon’s rescue, that that fact hadn’t changed very much. If she had been awake, he knew she would be currently digging herself into a hole of terrible excuses and lies.

Sandor just shrugged. “I couldn’t say, Your Grace.”

Catelyn spoke up then. Even though her brother was the king, he still felt most uncomfortable around her mother. Mothers always know, they say. For the sake of both of them, Sandor hoped that was wrong. “Sandor,” she said. “Take her up to bed, won’t you?”

He bit back the smile that threatened his ruined lips, the jape that he could have easily made, had it not meant his certain banishment or execution. Instead, he just nodded and moved forward.

He finally saw her face. He was used to watching her sleep now, and it was clear that she was out.

He lightly shook her shoulder, but it just made her slump deeper into her chair. He sighed and pulled out the chair, hoping the sound and movement would wake her. It did not.

“Oh just carry her then.” Robb tried to say without laughing.

Sandor bent down to her level and slipped his arms around her waist, lifting her easily up and settling her into his arms.

“Goodnight.” He gruffed at them.

“Goodnight Sandor.” Robb and Roslin said together. Rickon and Catelyn just stared at her, still very much asleep.

He walked to their rooms slowly, enjoying the moments of being able to hold her so close to him and not have to worry about anyone thinking twice about it. The hall was empty, as usual. He brought her room and went to set her down on her bed, but thought better of it.

He wasn’t going to leave her alone, and he slept better on his own bed, so he settled her for a minute and searched in her drawers for the key to the door. He picked her back up when he found it and managed to lock the door behind him.

When they got to his room, he laid her on his bed. He had a memory of the first time he carried her like this to her room. It was the night of the ball in King’s Landing. He’d taken off her shoes, given her water and a chamber pot to be sick in the next day. He could do more for her now, he knew. He slipped off her shoes.

She moaned in apparent annoyance as he sat her up on the bed, balancing her weight while trying to unlace her dress. He managed to get her out of it somehow without waking her up. He left her shift on, even though he knew she preferred sleeping naked, and got her under the covers. She nestled in on the furs, settling herself for a night of peaceful sleep, something he knew she needed. _Hells, we both do._

* * *

Sansa

The first thing she felt was his arm around her middle. His breath on her neck, his face nestled into her hair. _How did I get here? Why am I in my shift?_ She couldn’t even remember. _Did I fall asleep at dinner?_ She pushed the thought away, enjoying the feeling of her back against his chest. She moved back against him where he held her and soon she could feel him growing hard against her. He hummed into her ear as he slowly woke up and tightened his grip on her, pulling her even closer. He pushed her hair out of the way and found her neck, lightly biting into it. Sansa felt herself moan, enjoying the feeling, anticipating what was going to come next.

It took her a second to realize what was woken her up in the first place. She froze. Someone was knocking at the door.

He stopped when she did, finally hearing it too.

“Who-“ She started.

“I don’t know.” His voice was rough. _Whoever it is, they are not going to receive a friendly welcome for interrupting him_ , she thought.

“What if it’s-“

“It’s not.”

 _Robb, or mother,_ she was going to say. He groaned as he pulled away from her. In the darkness, she could only see his outline as he looked down at her. “Just get under the covers.”

She did as she was bid, slipping a fur over her head, bringing her hair down around her neck to be sure that it didn’t peek out against the pillows. She heard his feet hit the floor as the knocking became more insistent. She listened as he pulled on his breeches before stomping over to the door. He unlatched the bolt and Sansa stopped breathing, listening.

“What are you doing here?” He asked.

“I waited too long, you know.” Mallory.

“What are you talking about?”

“I thought that if I waited, backed off a little, then you would come to your senses and finally come after me.” Still? Sansa couldn’t believe it. _Gods girl,_ Sansa wanted to shout, _get it together. He doesn’t want you!_

Sandor’s voice was quiet, but harsh. “Well you thought wrong.” She heard the door creak as he went to close it, and then a smack against the wood. She must be stopping him.

“I don’t understand. I can’t imagine women are exactly lining up

Sansa felt herself gasp. She prayed it was quiet enough. Sandor paused for a second before responding. “Leave.” His voice was sharp, angry.

She heard Mallory huff. And then her voice became louder, ever so slightly. “I know you know.”

Sansa felt ice go through her veins. No. She can’t.

Sandor remained as calm as he could be. “Know what?”

“I know how you feel about her.” She laughed, mirthlessly. “I see the way you look at her. It’s pathetic.”

“The only thing that is pathetic is your behavior, Mal. I’ll try to forget it, for your sake.” She heard the door creak again, but not shut. She must be pushing in. Sansa heard her huff even louder. Almost a laugh.

“You don’t get it do you? Then you’re as stupid as you are ugly. She’ll never love you. How could she? You- you hideous beast!”

Sansa had never wanted to inflict pain on another woman before in her life. But at that, it was everything she could do to remain under the covers, instead of flying from the bed and throttling her to the ground, tearing her limb from limb. _How dare you! You’re wrong_ Mal _. I love him. I love him more than anyone will_ ever _love you. Cunt!_ Sansa couldn’t believe her own thoughts. She never said or even thought that word before.

Sansa heard the door close shut over

She tried to slow her breathing, her heartrate. She didn’t know what he would think, with her hearing it. _Could I lie?_

At the thought he pulled the fur right off of her.

“Who was it?” She heard herself ask.

She could see his eyes narrow in the darkness. “You didn’t hear that?”

She shook her head, trying to stare into his eyes. “Who was it?”

She heard him sigh. “Mallory.”

Sansa sat up. “You’re kidding.”

He shook his head.

“What did she want!?” Sansa asked, hoping he believed the lie.

He choked out a laugh. “Me. Again.”

Sansa shook her head. “Incredible. How pathetic.”

“Hmmm.” It was clear that he was still thinking about what she said. Sansa needed to take his mind off of it.

Her hand found his bare chest. She scooted closer to him, where he bent over her. She moved her fingers through the thickness of hair on his chest. “Well, where were we?”

“Sansa.” He put his hand on hers. “It’s the middle of the night.”

She slipped an arm around his neck. “That hasn’t stopped us before.”

He didn’t move. She wanted to tell him, how wrong Mallory was. How much she truly did love him. How seeing his face was the best part of her day.

 _But you can’t,_ she told herself. _You can’t. He can’t know or it will destroy us both._

Instead, she sat up on her knees, and pulled her shift over her head. She found him again and pressed herself against him as best she could, but he still didn’t move. She kissed him. He kissed her back, but not with the heat and urgency he usually did. Her hands moved down his arms and found his hands. She put them in hers and guided him to her body. She trailed his fingers up to her chest until he caught on and his fingers moved across the skin of her breast. The other hand she moved to between her legs so he could feel the wetness there. And then she knew she could let go and wrap her arms around him again. He finally reacted the way she wanted him to, kissing her back, hard and fiercely. His hands moved on their own accord, fingers slipping inside of her, finding that sweet spot that made her groan into his mouth. Her hands moved down his chest and pushed down his hastily laced breeches over his hips. She took him in her hand and tightened her fingers around him. He almost grunted when she did. She found herself smiling, knowing how she could make him feel. How just a few seconds ago he was pushing her away, but here he was, on top of her now moving inside of her.

She couldn’t get over what Mallory said to him as they moved together. She found herself kissing him harder, and then moving toward the left side of his face. With each kiss, she felt a new part of him. His jaw, his cheek, under his eye, all rough and cracked under the softness of her lips.

 _If I can’t tell him how wrong Mallory is_ , she thought, _at least I can show him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. Mal's a bitch! I'll be the first so say it!!
> 
> hmmmmmm I hate using the c word but I thought it was appropriate for this. sorry.
> 
> Ok, off to Mr. Fancy Kid's sister's engagement party!! I'll try to check in for comments, but as I'll be surrounded by the entire clan of in-laws, it might be difficult.
> 
> What do ya think!!?!?!


	74. Chapter 74

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good god this took be a long time.  
> 

Sansa

Sansa woke early the next morning, before Sandor. She didn’t sleep very well at all. Once he fell asleep, the rage she felt as Mallory’s words festered inside of her. It took everything in her not to sneak out of the room and find Mallory. She imagined the things she would say to her. Tell her the reason why Sandor never wanted anything to do with her was _because_ of Sansa. She fell asleep, picturing the look on Mallory’s face when she would tell her.

Sandor’s back was to her when she woke up. She reached her arm around him and pulled herself close to him. She buried her face into his back and curled herself around him.

She didn’t want to leave. Where last night, she wanted to hunt Mallory down, right now she just wanted to hole up in the room with him for the rest of the day. She hoped he wouldn’t be dwelling on the things she had said. She couldn’t remember a time where he wasn’t holding her in their sleep. _He better not ruin our last days together thinking about Mal._

She wanted to tell him how wrong Mallory was. She wanted to look at his face. She wanted to tell him how thinking of him back in King’s Landing was the only thing that got her through every day. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to tell him that she loved him.

 _I can’t_ , she told herself, her heart sinking, as it did every time she thought of it. She thought of what Mallory said last night. ‘I know how you feel about her.’ She had said. ‘I see the way you look at her.’ Sansa noticed how he looked at her too. She always thought it was lust behind his eyes, his want for her. She never imagined it could mean more than that. _Could he love me?_ Sansa felt her heart begin to race at the thought. Even now, she couldn’t picture Sandor Clegane declaring his love for anyone or anything. She wondered if he would even know how to define it for himself, had he felt it.

 _It doesn’t matter._ She thought back to the time that felt so long ago when she thought he was getting sick of her, how wrong she had been, and how much easier it would have made everything if he had.

Sansa knew she loved Sandor. She was sure that she always would. Even after she was married to Gawen.

_But he can’t love me. If he loves me, then everything will be ruined. If he loves me, then there is no way that I will be able to tear myself away from him._

Sansa sighed, a shuddering breath against his back.

She felt him shift and groan as he woke up. Sansa blinked and felt a tear drop from her eye and hit the pillow. _Seven hells Sansa. Pull yourself together._

She pulled her hand away from him to wipe at her eyes with the heel of her hand. She did so just in time. Sandor turned over, eyes still closed. His arm snaked around her back and pulled her close to his chest, burying his head in her hair. She felt him breathe in deeply. She moved her leg between his, feeling the roughness of his burns against the smoothness of her skin.

“Are you awake?” She mumbled into his chest.

“No.” He grumbled, more of a growl than anything.

Despite the somberness of her thoughts, Sansa felt herself smile. “We haven’t been out in a while.”

He hummed, disinterested.

“Would you like to go to the Wolfswood?”

He sniffed. “For what?”

Sansa smiled wider. “A picnic?”

He barked out laugh. “A _picnic_? In the cold, dark forest? I thought picnics were for the summer.”

She looked up at him, her face just lower than his. His eyes were still closed, but he squinted one open when he felt her move. She raised her eyebrows at him and it was just a second before he caught on.

Sandor smirked at her and closed his eyes again, tightening his grip around her. Sansa tucked her head back into his chest, settling in for the next few minutes before she had to get up and pretend that she had slept alone that night. She was glad to see that he didn’t seem to be letting what Mallory said affect him, but that didn’t mean that Sansa had forgotten.

Shae was in Winter Town visiting Conall that morning, so it was up to Mallory and Anna to get her prepared for the day. Sansa knew there was nothing she could say to her about last night, but she still had no intentions of being kind to her.

Mallory’s face was already set in a scowl when she came into the room. Sansa swallowed the bile that rose in her throat, remembering the words that came out of her mouth last night.

“What’s wrong with you Mallory?” Sansa was sitting in front of her mirror as Anna braided her hair back.

She sighed as she stripped the covers from her bed. “I didn’t get much sleep last night, is all.”

“Oh no? Maybe you should go back to bed.” _Stay in your own bed for the sake of the gods,_ she added in her head, _stop trying to get into Sandor’s._ Mallory sighed heavily again, but ignored Sansa. “Otherwise, you should stop frowning. It’s not very attractive on you, dear.”

Anna’s hands froze in Sansa’s hair, and from the corner of her eye she could see Mallory as she stopped moving too.

Sansa turned her head. Her nostrils were flared and her jaw was clenched. She was gripping onto the sheet of the bed tightly. “Come now.” Sansa said. “Let’s see a smile.” Mallory lifted her chin and stared at her, hard. Sansa made her eyes light, as innocent-looking as possible, but she did not waiver. After what felt like forever, Mallory finally smiled. A fake, toothy grin that didn’t touch her eyes. “There. All better.” Sansa turned back to the mirror as both Mallory and Anna got back to their work. In the reflection of the glass, she swore she could see a small smile playing at Anna’s lips.

* * *

“Don’t race me again. I don’t think I can handle it.”

Sansa shifted in her saddle again. She didn’t know what why, but she was extremely uncomfortable. It hadn’t been that long since she’s been in a saddle. They had only been riding for about ten minutes now in the direction of the Wolfswood, but she could barely stand it anymore.

“What’s wrong?” Sandor stayed close to her, riding Stranger, but not too close. His eyes squinting at her, concerned.

“I don’t know.” She kept her face forward, feeling his eyes on her. She was glad her hood was up and she hoped it hid the blush the crept onto her cheeks. “My hips are just - aching.” She scrunched her nose as she said it, feeling strangely uncomfortable telling him this.

Sandor’s laugh was so loud she was sure they could hear it within the walls of Winterfell.

“Don’t think that’s from riding, girl. Not from the horse anyway.”

Sansa looked down, forcing her hood up further around her face. He stopped laughing after a moment and was quiet.

“Sansa.” _Stupid. How embarrassing. You shouldn’t have told him that_. “Sansa. Look at me.” His voice was harder. She made herself turn toward him. “I’m sorry for laughing. And for you hurting.”

“It doesn’t hurt. Just, uncomfortable.”

His gaze was unflinching. “Maybe we should stop.”

She looked down at her gloved hands, holding the reigns and then ahead to the line of trees. “Why? We’re nearly there.”

“No little bird.” It was clear he was biting back a smile. “Not what I meant.”

Sansa gasped. “Oh!” _He can’t be serious._ “No!”

Sandor barked out another laugh and Sansa knew the heat in her face was obvious, even under the hood. She cleared her throat. “Not – not unless – you want to stop – of course.”

He stopped laughing again, he looked at her quickly before returning his eyes toward the tree line. When he spoke, it was slow, calculated. He seemed to pronounce every word with extreme care. “No. That’s not what I want. Just a couple days left of this. Don’t plan on wasting another second of it, if that’s alright with you.”

He turned to her then, his eyebrow raising, questioning her. Suddenly she couldn’t find the words. She hadn’t even thought of how little time they had left. Three days. That was all. She found herself nodding to him. He bent his head, once, and turned back to the trees that they were quickly approaching.

They were quiet as they went deeper into the forest. There was snow on the ground on the way there, but slowly it dissipated when the trees became more densely placed and closed in. Sansa stopped her chestnut at a small clearing, free of mud and snow. Sandor stopped next to her and dismounted. Sansa swung her leg around to the side, waiting for him to help her down. Sandor got to her and stopped, looking at the saddlebag, packed on the side.

“What’s that?”

She couldn’t help but grin, proudly. “That’s our breakfast picnic.”

“A picnic.” He wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her down. “I thought you were joking.”

“It was a jape, at first.” Her feet touched the ground and she turned to the bag she had packed. “But I thought it might be nice.” She smiled up at him as she pulled a rough spun blanket out of the saddlebag and tossed it at him. “Here.” He caught it with a smirk and shook his head, turning away from her. “Put it over there, the dry spot by that big tree.” She watched him start to shake out the blanket before turning back to the saddle bag. She pulled out the satchel that she had packed in the kitchen and the skin of wine she snuck out under her cloak. Sandor settled himself on the blanket, leaning against the tree behind him.

“Alright girl, let’s see what you’ve got.” She tossed the skin of wine at him and he caught it as it his chest. “Wine? In the morning.” He laughed, and uncorked the skin. “The princess is full of surprises.” He took a pull as she sat down next to him.

“We needed something to keep us warm.” He handed her the skin before putting his arm around her and pulling her close. “That works too.” She giggled and took a sip of the wine.

He gathered up her cloak around her as she dug into the satchel. She pulled out some hard cheese, two apples and a few pieces of bread, still warm from the kitchen. Sandor grabbed an apple and chomped down on it. Sansa went further and found a knife and a small jar of - “ _Lemon_ jam?” Sandor said through his chewing.

Sansa bit her lip. “Gage. It’s like he knows.”

“Knows how much you love you lemon cakes. Everyone knows that.”

Sansa opened the jar and smeared some of the preserves on a piece of bread. She handed it to Sandor and then made one for herself. She leaned her head back against his arm and they ate in silence for a while. The lemon jam was sweet and tart, but not too sour. _Ser Gawen doesn’t like lemons. He says they don’t usually have them at Deepwood Motte. That’s going to take some getting used to._

Sansa made herself push the thought away as she finished her piece of bread. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. _Don’t ruin these last few moments with worrying about what you can’t change._ Even with the chill in the air, Sansa was warm. Just a bit of wine warming her blood under her fur-lined cloak, Sandor’s arm around her, the heat of his massive body radiating off of him.

“Can I ask you something?” Sandor murmured in her ear.

“Hmmm.”

He was quiet. And Sansa waited. She wasn’t expecting this to be anything serious, but with the way he seemed to mull over his words, she was suddenly nervous to hear what he had to say.

“What we’ve been doing, it’s not just for – enjoyment, you know.” _What? What is he getting at?_ She waited and kept her eyes closed. He sniffed before speaking again. He was clearly uncomfortable and Sansa knew he could feel how her body went rigid against him. “Not the only purpose I mean.”

Sansa stopped breathing. _Spit it out!_

He sighed, seemingly frustrated himself. “I just, want to make sure that you know what to do. We haven’t exactly been, preventing it, after all.”

Sansa’s mind was spinning. _Is he talking about a – a – no._ Sansa jerked away from him. His hand fell onto the ground. _Is he really talking to me about this? Is he really_ afraid _to talk to me about this?_

She turned on him. “You’re talking about a baby.” His eyes were wide. She could tell he wanted to look away, but to his credit he stared right back at her. “It’s nothing you need to worry about Sandor. I’m not _that_ stupid.” He began to protest, but she cut him off. “I’m taking care of it.”

She watched his chest rise and fall again as he breathed. And then he nodded. Clearly that was the end of that. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that she hadn’t even thought of it until Shae said something.

For a second, she felt almost offended. _Is the thought of having a child with me that revolting?_ She wondered if he had ever thought of becoming a father. _I can’t even picture him with a child._ She remembered how he was with Rickon, and knew she was wrong to think that. _Stupid. He’s not trying to offend you. He just knows that now might be the absolute worst time to have a baby, not being married and all. And his not being Gawen._

“What is it?”

Sansa looked at him. Her face was scrunched. She smoothed it out and shook her head. “Nothing.”

She turned away again. It was strange. They hadn’t been nervous to talk to each other about anything recently. Not since they started what they did. But now things felt odd. She hoped it wouldn’t last long. From under her hood, she saw his hand reach to her. He grabbed her chin and forced her face up to him. He was smiling at her.

“What?”

He moved his thumb to the corner of her mouth. He pulled back and there was a smear of lemon jam on his thumb.

“How long was that there?” She shouted, rubbing at her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Long enough.” He smirked and put his thumb to his mouth, sucking the jam right off of it.

Sansa felt her face go slack. An image from the other morning invaded her mind. Sandor, looking up at her from between her legs, his tongue sliding over his lip.

And then she was on top of him, arms flung around his neck, mouth opening to his before he even had his arms around her. His hands moved over her back, she could barely feel it under all of the fabric she was drowning in. Her hands went under his cloak and gripped at his tunic. She wanted to feel his warm skin under her fingers, but she knew that stripping down out there in the cold was not probable.

He broke away from her mouth. “Here?”

Sansa kissed him. “No one’s around.” She kissed him again. “No one will see.”

His eyes bore into hers and he slouched down further against the tree, making it easier for her to settle herself on him, straddling him. His hands found her legs under the mass of fabric that was her dress and cloak. His fingers were cold. It made her gasp as he gripped underneath her knees before moving his hands up higher on her legs. She felt him tug at her small clothes and her fingers went down to his breeches. She untied them quickly, no more nervous fumbling left in her. He still pulled at her smallclothes, but with the way they were situated it was impossible for them to come off. He groaned in frustration and she felt the fabric fall away as he ripped them right off of her. His hands moved to her backside.

She raised herself higher onto her knees, covering him with her dress, with herself. She positioned herself perfectly and lowered down onto him, sheathing him inside of her. A groan vibrated in his throat as she kissed him again. His fingers gripped into her, almost at the point of pain, but he still wasn’t holding her hard enough. His hands moved her over him, finding a steady rhythm.

Sansa couldn’t help but think of the last time they came to the Wolfswood. How she made him push her against the tree and kiss her. How she had felt his hardness against her leg. How she had been afraid of it. And here they were now, such a short time later, _fucking in the woods_. Sansa shocked herself with her thoughts. She’d never thought of it like that before. That wasn’t something noble ladies did. _But neither is this,_ she thought as she lifted herself, almost all the way off of him and then pushing down again, slowly, eliciting another bone-chilling groan from his throat.

Too soon, Sansa felt the heat coiling inside of her. Their pace quickened and it built, slowly, until the coil snapped and the heat went echoing through her entire body. She felt herself moan into his mouth the same moment as she heard his breath hitch and then release in a low shudder as he found his.

They slowed and breathed hard against each other. She watched as heat of their breath turned to smoke in the air, meeting each other becoming one mass, one cloud of white in the cold before fading away.

She lifted herself away from him. His hands moved from her to his breeches under her dress, pulling them up and back into place. He laced them up before she moved away from him. She was on her knees on the blanket beside him.

“Sorry.” He held out his hand to her. In it was the shredded remnants of her smallclothes.

Sansa gasped and ripped them from his hand. She shoved it under her cloak. “No you’re not.”

She ignored the smirk on his face. “How are your hips now?”

Sansa put her hands to them. She still was sore, aching. But she wasn’t going to tell him that again. _He’ll threaten to stop again, before our time is up._ She shook her head. “I’m fine.” She knew he didn’t believe her. She was just glad that he didn’t push the issue.

* * *

“Rickon. Could I talk to you?”

Under the pretense of watching them practice, Sansa had followed Sandor to Rickon’s room. When they got there though, she forced herself in front of Sandor and knocked on the door herself. She’d been meaning to talk to him about why he lied for her the other night, and now was the right time.

Rickon stood in the doorway, his eyes flashing from Sandor’s above and behind her, and back again to Sansa’s.

“Alone.” Sansa persisted.

Rickon’s eyes flashed back to Sandor’s for a second. “Ummm, sure Sansa.” He backed up into his room.

She turned her head over her shoulder to Sandor. “I’ll just be a moment.” His eyes were wide as he watched her enter the room.

Sansa closed it behind her. Shaggydog was staring at her, panting with his apparent need to get outside.

Rickon turned on his heels and looked at the floor. “So, what do you want to talk about?” He tapped his knuckles against the table, obviously uncomfortable.

“I just wanted to talk about the other night.” She clasped her hands together at her front, suddenly unsure of what she was going to ask him.

“What about it?”

“Well, I, I wanted to thank you. For covering for me at dinner.”

“Oh. Sure.” He was looking down at his feel.

“I just had a question.”

Rickon looked up at her then. But he didn’t say anything. Shaggy whimpered at the door.

“Why did you do it?”

“Hmmm?”

“Rickon focus.” His eyes snapped back to hers. “Why did you cover for me? When you didn’t know what I was doing in the first place?”

“Well you were clearly lying. I just - felt bad.”

Sansa put her hands on her hips. “I know that’s not it. There’s something else.” Rickon’s eyes shifted away from her, at his feet, then at the door. And then Sansa knew. _He’s a worse liar than me._

She remembered how his eyes flickered toward Sandor as it happened that night. “Was it Sandor?” Rickon’s head shot up at her. His eyes were wide. “It was, wasn’t it?”

“No! I just – I –“ He stammered.

Sansa felt herself laugh. “Rickon, it’s alright.” Sansa’s heart raced at the thought of someone else knowing besides Shae. And her baby brother? _Seven hells._ Sansa found a chair and leaned forward against it. “What do you know?”

“What do you mean?” He tilted his head. “Sandor just-“ She saw him look at the door again and he lowered his voice. “He, he just looked at me. He tilted his head toward you. His eyes were all frantic looking. So – so I guessed what he wanted me to do. To lie for you. I guessed right - I guess.”

“You did.” She breathed. “And I thank you. But, for Sandor, to look at you like that. For you to know what he meant.” She shook her head, thinking of it as the words came out of her mouth. “What else-“ She swallowed. “What do you know?”

“Is there – something to know?” He squinted his eyes at her.

She didn’t miss a beat. “I don’t know. Is there?”

Rickon’s eyes went wide again. _Have they been talking about things? Did Sandor_ tell _him?_ Sansa rushed forward to him and put her hands on his shoulders. “Rickon. What do you know? What does he tell you?”

“Nothing! Sansa get off of me!”

She let go of him and put her hands at her sides. “I’m sorry.”

“Gods, Sansa.” He straightened his jerkin and his brow furrowed. “He doesn’t tell me anything. It’s just – obvious.”

“What is?” She snapped.

“The way you two look at each other. I’m just the only one that sees it.” Sansa’s back went in a straight line and he continued. “With the way he looked at me that night, I figured it meant you were together, and that’s why you had to lie.” Sansa put her hand to her chest, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. “See. I knew you were.”

Sansa fell to her knees in front of him. She reached for his shoulders and looked up at him. “Rickon. You can’t tell anyone. We shouldn’t even be talking about this.”

“I didn’t want to talk about it! You kept pushing!”

Sansa gritted her teeth. “I know.”

“I just don’t get it. If you want to be together - then be together.”

She took a breath and repositioned her hands on his shoulders, her palms, clammy and hot. “It’s not that simple Rickon.”

He rolled his eyes. “That’s what he said.”

Her heart stopped. “He did? Of course he did. What else did he say?”

Rickon’s mouth popped open, before closing again. He set his jaw. “Nothing.”

She shook his shoulders lightly. “Rickon.”

He looked her straight in the eye. The color, so like her own. “He didn’t say anything else.” _And even if he did, I wouldn’t tell you_ , it seemed that he was going to say next. Sansa looked down at herself. She was on her knees, shaking her little brother, begging him for information. _Seven hells. I’m pathetic._ Sansa let go of him and stood up. She put her hand over her mouth.

“Don’t tell him about this.” Her voice was quiet under her hand. “Please.”

“I won’t.” He took a breath. “I just don’t know why you two can’t-“

“Don’t. Rickon. Please, it’s not helping.”

Rickon sighed. His shoulders slumped. “I won’t tell him. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thank you.”

They were quiet for a moment and Shaggydog whined again.

Rickon cleared his throat. “He’s still waiting at the door you know.”

“I know.” She sighed. “You go first.”

Rickon sighed and nodded at her. He went to the door and Sansa sat in the chair. She needed to process this. She heard Rickon and Shaggy leave the room.

“Where’s your sister?” Sandor asked.

“She’s uh – she’s going to stay inside.”

She heard some gruff mumbling, something that sounded like a protest from Rickon and a yelp from Shaggy. And finally, retreating footsteps.

Sansa sighed and slumped into the chair. _Great. So Rickon knows._

She could tell that he didn’t know exactly what was going on between them. He was still too young. But he had clearly learned enough on Skaagos to know what it looked like when a man and a woman wanted each other.

 _But what had Sandor told him? Did they talk often? Does he know we spend the nights together? And what did he mean by ‘that’s what he said’?_ _Did Rickon try to tell Sandor that we could possibly be together?_ Sansa didn’t know the answers to these questions. She knew it would be difficult to ask Sandor, to talk to him about this. But then another thought hit her. _There is no point in talking about it._

She took a shuddering breath to calm herself. _Nothing good will come of it_. She had to let it go. In less than three days now, she was going to be on the road to Deepwood Motte, and _any thought of being with Sandor will just be a memory_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so, it took me so long because I've been working and finishing school.  
> That's right - FINISHING school. As of last night, I am officially done with my life-long career as a student. in September, I'll start my new one as a teacher!! WEEEEEE!!!
> 
> Alright so I'm really sorry this took me so long. But I'm sad to say that it might be like this from now on. Since I'm not at school anymore, I have to go back to working full time as a receptionist at a salon for the summer. Sigh. No more daily updates. And I want to cry.
> 
> Anyway, again, sorry this took me so long. I hope to have another chapter out by the end of the week, but I am really just unsure if I'll even have time to open my computer. OH MY GOD I'M GONNA CRY AGAIN.
> 
> If you've stuck with me thus far, I hope you will not lose faith!! Thank you guys for reading as always!! I'll be here to join in the comment party if you still feel like having one. :(


	75. Chapter 75

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Somewhat angry, bitter lemons approaching.

Sandor

Somehow, they had only one day left. Yesterday was spent in preparation for their journey. They were both so busy that he didn’t even have time to see her for most of the day. Sansa didn’t even have a meal with her family, as far as Sandor knew. When he was finally finished with his duties it was late in the evening. He went in search of her but was told that she had already gone up to sleep a few hours before.

Sandor trudged up to their rooms, dead on his feet, not having time to break all day. In the darkness of the empty corridor, he found himself at her door. It was locked. _Good,_ he thought. _We both need sleep. Better get bloody used to sleeping alone._

He made his way to his room and opened the door, kicking off his boota and tugging his tunic over his head before he even made it all the way into the room. The fire had been set hours ago, by the looks of it. But in the dull light it still gave off, he could see the very small outline of Sansa in his bed. So he wouldn’t have to sleep alone. _Not yet anyway._ From the look of it, she was asleep. He bolted the door and continued undressing. He climbed into the bed next to her. She was on her stomach, one arm under her pillow, the other bent up, her hand near her face. He looked at her hand in a light fist, her thumb resting in between her index and middle fingers. He moved her hair out of the way as he settle in next to her, careful not to wake her. He wrapped himself around her warmth, his arm around her middle, his leg finding the space between hers. He nuzzled his face into her neck, and breathed in deeply. She smelled of lavender, a hint of lemon, but overwhelmingly _her_. A scent he had gotten used to, sought after and dreamt of. Now something that he would have to try to forget. How he was going to tear himself away from her the day after tomorrow, he wasn’t sure. He focused on the softness of her breaths that soon lulled him to sleep.

 

When he woke up that morning their bodies were still in the same position. He pulled away and laid on his back. His eyes were clear and his mind was set. In his sleep it seemed he decided what he would have to do. Should have started doing it days ago. If we’re going there, he thought, then I shouldn’t have ever touched her in the first place. No, he would tell her when she woke up. He knew it might hurt her, to be blunt, ‘honest’, even though in truth, it was going to be the biggest lie he had ever told. He knew telling her might cost him the last night of feeling her in his arms, but it was time to get back to the reality of the matter. A princess and her dog. That was all they were, all they ever could be.

He put his arms under his head and she stirred with his movements. She hummed and turned over, still half-asleep. She wrapped herself around him. It took everything in him not to put his arm around her, to pull her closer.

Soon she woke up, seemingly thinking the same as she reached up for his arms, but he didn’t react. He didn’t move. He just stared up at the ceiling. Her arms slinked back to his chest, defeated. She sighed, breathing hard out of her nose.

Sandor knew he had to do it now, before she could say anything. He swallowed and hoped she didn’t hear it, or feel it.

“Well, this is it then huh?”

She lifted her head up to him. “Hmm?”

He looked down at her. Her eyes were wide blue pools. He made himself look back up to the ceiling.

“This.” He shrugged his shoulders, effectively moving her naked body against his. “Whatever _this_ was.”

“What? What do you mean? We still have today. Tonight.”

Sandor sighed. “I suppose.”

At that, Sansa sat up, bringing the covers with her, covering herself from him. “Sandor,” she reached out her hand and put it on his chest. “Is everything alright?”

He made himself look at her. He knew what his face must have looked like. Disinterested. Ugly. Cruel. But he stared in her eyes. He had to make himself clear. “What could be wrong?”

The breath that came from her mouth reminded him of the sound she made when Meryn fucking Trant punched her in the gut. Knocking the wind out of her. She pulled her hand away. Snapping it back and wrapping it around herself. Even then, he was sure it was hurting him more than her. _I’m the sap that’s in love with her._ He looked away, up at the ceiling again, forcing himself to continue. “It’s been fun, hasn’t it?”

“Fun.” She licked her lips. “Yes. It certainly has.” Her voice had an edge to it, a sharpness that he only ever heard when she was arguing with someone. He was insulting her, just as he meant to. He ignored every instinct in him as she got up off the bed. He wanted to run after her, grab her, carry her back to the bed and hold her. But he just watched her as she slipped on her robe, an angry flush on her cheeks. They didn’t say anything to each other again. And he didn’t stop her when she left.

* * *

Sansa

_Fun? It’s been fun?_

With just a few curt words, Sandor had completely shattered any illusion that Sansa might have had. There were times, like the one afternoon after the bath, that she could have sworn he thought of her as something more. The way his eyes searched hers, the way he would hold her, rub her back, move her hair out of her face. She remembered what Mallory had said that night, just the other day. It seemed horribly probable, that he might love her too.

The way he spoke to her this morning, she realized that any such thought was foolish for her to have. Sansa wiped away the uninvited tears that fell from her eyes. She wouldn’t see much of him during the day, having to work with Roslin for preparing for the trip. She knew he had something of significance to do to prepare, but she just didn’t care what it was.

Was that really how he wanted to end it? Her shy and naked, scurrying away under his harsh words, the way she used to in King’s Landing?

By the time she was ready to leave her room, Sansa was set. That wasn’t going to be the last thing he thought of her when looking back on their time together. Her plan for the night would see to that.

* * *

Sandor

_Godswood_

That’s all the note said. It was left on the table in his room, under a cup that, from the looks of it had only recently been drained of Dornish Sour.

He hadn’t seen her at all during the day. He was prepared for tomorrow, for the journey. He wasn’t sure if he was prepared to deal with the repercussions of the way he treated her this morning. He certainly didn’t think that she would want to be with him again. Sandor stood there for a moment.

 _Not bloody going, walking into a trap like that._ As badly as he wanted to continue whatever they had been doing, he had been thinking all day that it would be best just to leave it where it was. So she would be mad at him. She would get over it once she saw her Ser Gawen again. _She’ll marry her handsome knight and whelp him pretty babies and she’ll forget anything we might have had._

Sandor grabbed the flagon of wine and brought it to his mouth. He took a few big gulps, sure he was settled on not going to see her. But through his window, he heard the wind outside. Snow was falling again. And she was out there, alone in the cold.

_Seven buggering hells._

He lifted the flagon to his lips again, only to realize that it would be easier to resist her if he wasn’t drunk. He slammed it on the table and grabbed his cloak. He wouldn’t leave her out there waiting. He was set on tossing her over his shoulder if he had to and carrying her back to _her own_ bed.

That was the plan at least.

Sandor made his way through the Godswood in the dark. He expected to see her at the heart tree. But all he found was a cloak in the snow. _Her cloak._ He picked it up. _Is she stupid? Out here in the snow without a cloak? She’ll freeze to death._ He resisted shouting out for her, lest anyone hear.

He stared at the mournful face in the heart tree. For the first time, he felt that these old gods of hers might actually mean something to him, looking down at him in pity as this tree was.

“I know I’m pathetic.” He sneered at the tree. “Can’t fucking help it can I?” _Bloody hells. Now I’m talking to a fucking tree._

At that, he heard a noise behind him. Movement in the water. He turned just as her head came up to the surface. The top of her head and her glowing blue eyes were all he could see in the black surface of the largest hot spring fed pool. He moved closer, the toes of his boots at the waterline.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He snarled at her, not caring who heard. _She’s gone mad._

She lifted her head a little higher out of the water, her lips resting above the surface. “I have to say, I wasn’t too pleased with your version of a _goodbye_ this morning, Sandor.” He looked behind her, the moss-covered wall of the guest house looming over the pools. He looked higher to the windows overlooking the water.

“You better get out. Someone will see you.” He held the cloak out for her,

Sansa shook her head. “It’s empty. You know it is. Besides, I double checked.”

He shook the cloak in his hand. “Get out of there.” He snarled at her.

She looked down and smirked. “If you insist.” She rose from the water, slowly moving toward him, the smirk still on her face.

The cloak slipped from his hand and into the snow. He’d seen her naked dozens of times now. But never like this. Her hair was slick with the water, against her scalp, trailing down her back. Her arms were at her sides and he could see all of her, even in the darkness. He watched the water drip down her long neck, her freckled collar bone that he could snap in two with a finger, her perfect breasts that moved with the steady rise and fall of her chest, the flatness of her stomach, the curve of her hip, the thatch of auburn hair between her legs, her slender thighs, knobby knees, down her calves and back into the pool from where it came. In the cold air, the heat of her was palpable as it rolled off of her body in waves of steam, meeting and mixing with the steam that rose from the water itself. It was like something out of a dream.

“Aren’t you cold?” Her voice was as soft as the snow that fell to the ground around him, but it still sent a chill right through him.

_Fuck me._

Sandor’s cloak was on the ground on top of hers, his tunic, boots, breeches and small clothes soon followed. She smirked again, stepping backwards into the water, covering herself again, never taking her eyes off of him. The heat of the water stung his cold toes as he walked in to meet her, but he didn’t care. Where he met her in the middle of the pool, the waterline hit him high on the chest. She must have been on her toes, or treading lightly to keep her head up. Her hands were on him before his body could even get used to the shock of the heat. He thought she’d been smooth as silk when his hands roamed over her skin in his bed. He never thought anything could ever feel better in his hands. The hot water added a whole new dimension to her. Suddenly he was wishing he had tried to fit in that tub with her the other day.

Her lips were hot, wet and hard on his. He wasted no time opening his mouth to hers. He lifted her higher so she could better reach him, an all-new lightness to her in the weightlessness of the water. He couldn’t help himself. He was clumsy with her, maybe even a little rough, as he crushed her body against his. But the way she dug her fingers in his scalp, her nails into his back, he knew she didn’t mind.

Then he heard it. A giggle. Not from her mouth in front of him. But behind him. He jerked his head away from her. “Someone’s coming.” He turned and sunk down to his knees, leaving everything under his nose underwater. He looked to where the sound came from, and then back to where Sansa was. She was gone, under the surface, leaving shallow ripples in the wake of her plunge. Sandor turned back to the sound just in time to see it.

Walking behind the heart tree toward the gate of the godswood, oblivious to the eyes watching her from so close. She stumbled over a root, barely maintaining her balance. She giggled as she kept on moving. _Drunk. What is she doing in here?_ Once she disappeared between the trees, he heard the sounds of boots on top of snow covered leaves. _Ser Darol_. Lacing his breeches. _Well bugger me with my own sword. Not so green anymore, are you boy?_ Sandor saw the bubbles that came up to the surface from the laugh that escaped his lips under the water. He held himself together until Darol disappeared through the trees, headed for the gate. He wished Sansa could have seen it. He could only imagine the sound of her laugh, twinkling in the darkness.

 _Fuck._ “Sansa.” He turned around, she was still underwater.

And then he felt her. At first he thought it was her hand, until he realized that she was gripping into his hips with both of her hands. Her mouth then. On his cock. Sandor groaned into the night. His hands found her hair, weightless in the water. He knew he should pull her away, make her stop. _Seven buggering hells if anyone knew we had fucked that was one thing._ If anyone found out that the Princess of Winterfell had the Hound’s cock in her mouth, he didn’t even want to think about what would happen. At the very least, he was sure her Kingly brother would cut it off and hang it from the battlements.

Sandor never felt anything like this before. Different than the tightness between her legs, but it brought about a whole new dimension of pleasure that he had never been lucky enough to experience. Her tongue was warm and wet, swirling slowly around the tip of his cock. All the while her lips were tight around him. Too soon he felt himself building to his peak. He forced himself to push her away. This wasn’t how he was going to end their last time together. Not that fast, not without getting to see her. As good as it felt, he couldn’t imagine spilling his seed into her perfect pink mouth.

Sansa’s head popped up to the surface. He realized she should have been gasping for breath being underwater for so long. But the only one who was breathless was Sandor. She giggled, as she looked at him, smirking again.

He didn’t waste another second. He grabbed her around her middle with one arm and crushed her to him. His mouth was on hers, not caring about where it had just been. His hand found the warmth between her legs, hot now having been in the water for so long. She gasped as he thrust his fingers inside of her. He couldn’t say it was just being in water that made her so wet. She spread her legs and wrapped them around his waist, locking her ankles behind him. She snaked her arms around his neck. Her mouth was on his throat, she trailed her tongue along his skin, nipping her way up to his good ear. He lifted her hips and sheathed himself inside of her in one quick movement. Her gasp turned into a sigh at his ear and sent a shiver through him.

In the darkness Sandor could see the small waves their movements made at the water’s edge. He was a fool to think that he could have left it the way he did that morning. He wasn’t finished with her. Not tonight, maybe not ever.

* * *

Sansa

Sansa didn’t plan to stay, and she wouldn’t. She lost count of the times they came together. Almost as many as the bite marks he left on her, the bruises forming on her hips, the ones she was sure were on her back. For all the marks he left on her, she knew he’d have some of his own to remember her by. She hadn’t been gentle with her bites, her nails as she dug into him.

She was so angry. Angry that their time was up. Hurt by the way he treated her in the morning. Furious that he still seemed to care more than he would say. Livid over the fact that anything left unsaid was going to remain that way, forever.

They were on the floor by the end. He’d fallen asleep on the cold floor and she made herself climb off of him. She stood over him for a moment.

“Damn you.” It was just a whisper, but she almost wanted to wake him. She wanted him to hear it. She wanted him to know how angry she was. Instead she walked away and found her cloak. Sansa surveyed the room as she wrapped it around her. There were no covers on the bed, no furs. They were a crumpled, tangled mess on the floor, around Sandor where she had just left him.

When she closed the door behind her, Sansa knew she was saying goodbye. Not to Sandor. He would always be there. But not in the way she wanted him. Needed him. She was saying goodbye to what they had together, saying goodbye to the greatest pleasure she was sure she would ever experience in all of her life. She gathered the edges of her cloak around her and continued to her own room.

Waiting in her room for her was a small mug of steaming liquid and a note from Shae.

_It won’t hurt you later. I made sure._

She knew what it meant. That she would still be able to conceive later on with Gawen. Sansa rolled her shoulders back, trying to rid herself of the chills that came upon her at the thought of him touching her in the way Sandor did. She never thought that she would be repulsed by someone as handsome as Gawen. _Better get over it_ , she told herself. _He’s the only man who will be allowed to touch you again._

Sansa took off the cloak and threw it to the ground. She sat in her chair and took the cup in her hands. It was still hot, steaming. Shae must have just brought it. It must be getting close to morning then if she was awake. She brought the cup to her nose. It smelled like dirt. Earth. She was sure it would taste the same.

Sansa gulped, before even bringing the mug to her lips. _It’s just going to make me get my moonblood._ Sansa thought back to the last time she had it. Nearly one month ago exactly. She shook her head. _I’m due anyway._ She looked at the dark liquid in the cup. It started to slosh around as he hands shook.

Never in her life did she expect that she would be drinking moontea. Never did she think that she would want to loosen the hold that a growing life inside her may possibly have. _Growing life._ She shook her head again and licked her lips. _There’s nothing there in the first place. I’m sure if I didn’t drink it, I would get my moonblood tomorrow anyway. Maybe the day after._

But what if that didn’t happen?

Then it would mean she was pregnant.

_Pregnant. With the child of Sandor Clegane._

“Seven hells.”

Her mind went to where she never let it before. She saw a child. A girl, mayhaps. Red curls surrounding her face, grey misty eyes.

Sansa nearly dropped the mug, with how clammy her hands became. But she gripped onto it with her fingers.

Her jaw trembled, and she felt a tear fall from her eye and hit her cheek.

“Damn you, Sandor Clegane.”

She took a shuddering breath and brought the mug to her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooooo we hanging on a cliff!!!
> 
> I have and interesting piece of news. I'm joining the ranks of LadyClara and Cake - I found a real life Clegane.  
> We're going to go ahead and call him, CVS Clegane. Anyone interested, let me know and I will direct you toward him.
> 
> Ok, so even though I'm not posting as often, I still plan to do it like twice a week. And longer updates at that. So next one is going to be pretty long too. Hmm....
> 
> Welp. What do you think?


	76. Chapter 76

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1000 KUDOS!!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!!
> 
> I can't believe this. This is absolute insanity. Thank you all so much for reading, for liking this enough to leave kudos and as always, for commenting!! I can't tell you how shocked I still am that this many people like this thing. It is so crazy to me and I sincerely thank you all from the bottom of my heart. LOVE YOU ALL!!!!

Sansa

The warm winter sun had only just set, but Sansa knew she couldn’t stand the pain for another second.

The group had stopped and not a moment too soon. Sansa bit her lip to avoid crying out from the pain that shot through her abdomen as she lifted her leg over her chestnut mare and brought it to the other side of the saddle. Usually she would wait for Sandor to help her down, but she hadn’t even spoken to him today and she couldn’t wait for him, besides. Her feet hit the ground a little too hard, sending another jolt of pain through her middle. She took a breath and stalked off into the tree line before most of the others could dismount their horses. She barely even noticed the shadow of a man following her into the woods.

 

Sansa guessed that she only had about an hour of sleep before Shae came to wake her up. The first thing she noticed was her wrinkled fingertips, a stark contrast to the ever-fading, but still present callouses on her palms. She couldn’t remember the last time she was in water for such a long time. She sat up and watched Shae clear away the empty mug before rubbing her eyes with the heel of her hands. Sansa knew that Shae could see how red and swollen her eyes were. She was just glad that she didn’t say anything and she hoped that no one else would notice that she had cried herself to sleep.

 

“Anna, are you sure you don’t need Mallory to stay behind with you?”

Anna was pulling all of Sansa’s hair back in a long braid, tucking the long waves and curls away to make it easier for riding. Sansa made sure that she kept the collar of her robe up high enough, hiding the marks Sandor had left there. “I feel bad, leaving you on your own.”

It was a last minute addition, Mallory coming on the trip. She had requested it only yesterday and Sansa couldn’t think of a legitimately good enough reason to deny her. “Oh, trust me Princess.” Anna smiled. “I’ve never been sure of anything in my life.”

Sansa sighed. _Well, it was worth a shot._ Anna deserved a break from her anyway.

Sansa made sure to leave her room before Sandor even had a chance to knock on it. After the things they did last night, she realized she wouldn’t be surprised if he was still sleeping. Before leaving the corridor, Sansa told Anna to knock on his door to make sure he would be ready on time.

 

Sansa stood in the yard with Shae in the grey morning, watching everyone scurry together, ready the horses and tighten the trunks to the top of the wheelhouse. The whole time, Sansa was hoping for a blizzard to stop them from leaving. But when she looked in the sky again, the morning clouds were breaking, letting the sun come through to melt the fallen snow. The whole traveling party was ready to leave as soon as it came up.

Sansa felt someone poke her hip. She turned and Shaggydog was there, his long tongue hanging out the side of his mouth, looking up at her expectantly. She smiled and put her hand between his ears, wishing his sister were here to travel with her.

“I still don’t understand why I’m not allowed to go.” Shaggy’s master stood behind him, arms crossed over his chest with their mother and Osha, not far behind.

For the hundredth time, Catelyn sighed before answering him. “You’ve got to stay here with me Rickon. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell. You’re the head of the house when Robb’s away. I’ll need your help running it.”

Sansa smiled as Rickon rolled his eyes and kicked at the snow with the toe of his boot. She stepped toward him, bent down and wrapped him up in a hug. “What are you missing anyway?” She spoke into his hair. “A few nights in the deep woods? Nothing to be upset about.” He heaved a heavy sigh and reluctantly returned her hug.

After a moment, Sansa let go of him.

“Where’s Sandor?” Rickon asked, standing on his toes to look through the dozens of people who were readying to leave.

Sansa shrugged. “I haven’t seen him.” _Maybe he’ll oversleep and miss the trip all together._

She moved away from Rickon, only to be wrapped in another embrace by her mother.

“I’m so proud of you Sansa.” She whispered in her ear. Sansa forced a smile onto her face when he mother pulled away, keeping her hands on her shoulders. “I’m sure by the time you return, you’ll be more than ready to marry Gawen. I truly think you’ll be happy.”

 _I highly doubt it._ “I hope you’re right.”

Sansa watched as Roslin and Robb came over with the babies to say goodbye. She loved seeing her mother with little Ned and Lyanna. It made her long for the day where she could hand over her own child to her mother, to be covered in kisses and love. Sansa’s thoughts turned to the little girl she saw in her mind last night. She gulped, remembering what she had done, praying she had made the right decision.

“There he is!” Shaggy had found him first and Rickon went running after his wolf. Sansa watched as Rickon collided with Sandor. From where she stood, she could still see the redness in his eyes from lack of sleep. _Good,_ she thought. _He doesn’t deserve a pleasant journey._ She watched the two exchange words and saw Rickon glance back toward Sansa. Over the din of the yard, she swore she could hear the sound of Sandor’s teeth clashing together as he clenched his jaw. She watched him as he gripped onto Rickon’s shoulder, shaking his head as he said something to him. She tried reading his lips. It looked like ‘it’s over’, but that was all she got before she was interrupted.

“Princess?” It was one of the stable boys.

“Yes?”

“Your horse is ready.” He seemed to have trouble looking up at her.

“Oh, thank you.” He didn’t say anything, he just looked at his feet. “Is there something else?” He nodded. “What is it?”

He sighed. “It’s the black beast, Princess.” _Stranger._ Sansa sighed. “They said you’re the only one who can calm him down when he is this bad, that not to even as the hou- _Clegane_ – because you are still better with him.” The boy stammered over his words and Sansa found herself losing patience.

She stalked off in the direction of the stables, the boy trailing behind her.

She heard him before she even got there and as soon as she did, she called out to him.

“Stranger!” She went through the doors and took in the scene around her. He’d stopped all the furious noise he was making and his feet were on the ground. There were two men there, one trying to hold him, the other trying to saddle him. She waved them away and they didn’t protest. She put her hands out as she approached him. “I know, I know shhhh.” She muttered to him as he stomped into the ground, harrumphing all the while. When he was calm enough she reached out to grab the bridle at his cheek. He didn’t pull away and she took that as a good sign. With her other hand she reached up and stroked him between the eyes. The hard breaths he pushed out of his nose went from blowing her braid back over her shoulder and slowed until she felt nothing. “There now.” She put her forehead to the flatness above his nose and he stopped moving completely. “I know.” She whispered to him as the men managed to get the saddle on him. “I don’t want to go either.” Stranger made a sound of apparent agreement in his throat and Sansa sighed with him.

“Thank you.”

Sansa pulled away from him and whipped around. Sandor was standing there, looming over her. His eyes bore into her. She couldn’t read them. And she didn’t wait to. She put her eyes down and pushed past him out of the stable.

She walked back to where her family was standing. Roslin had already gone in the wheelhouse with the babies.

Sansa heard a giggle and turned her head toward it. Mallory was being helped onto a horse. Suddenly she remembered a giggle she heard last night. It sounded alarmingly similar. The man helping Mallory turned around, a huge familiar smile on his face. Ser Darol. _Seven hells, was it them in the godswood?_ She reminded herself to ask Sandor about it, until she realized that she never wanted to think about the last month, let alone last night, with him ever again. As if this trip wasn’t going to be difficult enough on its own, she would have to deal with these two the whole way there. Sansa felt a hand on her shoulder and she turned.

“Are you ready?” It was Robb. His smile was so wide, so she made hers match his and nodded. She watched him head off to his horse, Grey Wind ever faithful at his heels.

Sansa gave her mother and Rickon one last hug before following Shae to their horses. The bruises on her hips felt even worse when she looked at how high the stirrup was from the ground. Sandor usually helped her, but she wouldn’t dare ask him now. She watched as Shae hopped up easily onto her horse and she sighed. She reached out for the saddle. _Here goes nothing._

“Oh!” Sansa was lifted off of the ground before she could register the size of the hands that wrapped around her waist. When she had her foot in the stirrup the hands disappeared, like they were never even there. Sansa turned as she settled herself in the saddle. Sandor was heading away from her, back toward Stranger. She looked at his hands that had just picked her up as he clenched them into fists and then flexed his fingers again. He reached Stranger and she turned her head back around before he could see her staring.

 

The ride was slow and cold, but peaceful. As peaceful as it could have been with the feeling of his eyes burning into her back. She was sure that she was far enough away from Mallory and Darol. Even then, she could still hear her shrill laugh from the distance behind her as she laughed with Darol. _Gods. Is that what I sounded like with him on our last journey?_ Sansa felt a heat come to her cheeks as she remembered how foolish she was to let herself be like that around him. After about an hour, Sansa made herself ignore it. She made easy conversation with Shae. They talked about Conall some more and how much Shae liked him. Sansa knew that she loved him, she just didn’t know why she was holding back from telling her so. She almost looked sad when she spoke about him, such a confusing thought. Sansa wanted so badly to tell Shae all about the last few days with Sandor. How he truly did hurt her in the way that Shae had feared. But it wasn’t possible. Not with him right behind them. Not with anyone else around. Soon, they didn’t have much to talk about anymore. They fell into a somber silence after a while.

It was just before midday when Sansa began to feel the pain. It was uncomfortable at first. She pressed on her belly, feeling the bloat there. That’s when she knew her moonblood was starting. She was prepared for it, wearing the right garments she needed. She had more of the soft cloth in her saddlebag, sure she would need it when they stopped. She had nothing to distract her from the pain as it festered and spread within her stomach. Her back began to ache, not just from the position she was in, although that didn’t do much too help. She knew she should probably get off and go into the wheelhouse with Roslin, but she didn’t want to be cooped up in there, knowing that she was going to sleep in there tonight too. In the early afternoon, they had stopped for a few minutes. She was able to run off into the woods to change herself before continuing on.

After a couple more hours back on her horse, and after yet another sharp pain stabbed through her, she gasped and bent over in the saddle.

Shae whipped her head around. “Are you alright?”

Sansa closed her eyes and made herself sit up straight. She took a deep breath and blew it back out slowly. She made herself nod. “I’m fine.”

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

Sansa opened her eyes and turned her head. Sandor had moved up next to her. She bit back a groan when he looked at her. _What do you care if I’m in pain?_ She turned her head away and lifted her chin. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

She could still feel his eyes on her. _Go away,_ she begged in her mind. _Just go away._

“Sandor.” Shae’s voice was hard. “She’s fine. I’ve got her.” She kept her eyes ahead as he fell back behind her again. She mouthed a ‘thank you’ to Shae and prayed for the sun to hurry up and fall down.

 

She didn’t know how, but Sansa made it through the trees without falling. She’d never had a moonblood so painful before. She wondered if it could just have to do with getting it while riding, or if it was more than that. _I don’t understand. It doesn’t make any sense. I don’t understand._ She felt her jaw trembling with the short breaths she forced in and out of her lungs. She stopped at a tree and rested her hand on it, the other she pressed to her hip. She couldn’t get a good breath, and she started to feel dizzy, her head was heavy. She just wanted the pain to stop. She looked at the ground. The grass looked cold, but soft. She wanted to lay down and go to sleep. She started to bend her knees toward the ground.

“Sansa.”

 _Gods please, no. Not now._ She made herself turn.

Sandor was there, looming over her again. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears

“I need to talk to you.”

Sansa tried to take a deep breath, pulling herself together, holding her hand at her chest. “What is it?” She tried to make her voice harsh, but it was frustratingly weak in her condition. He took a step closer to her. He glanced behind him from where they came and then he reached for her. His hands found her hips. He held her, but thankfully he didn’t push her or grip too hard. His face was so close to hers. His eyes were a storm, searching hers - for what, she didn’t know.

“Last night. I just-“ He swallowed. “I don’t know.” _No. No no no no. This cannot be happening. Not right now._ “ _Fuck_ , Sansa.” He gripped her harder and she winced. He didn’t even notice. “What was I thinking, trying to end things with you?”

 _What?_ “Sandor. Don’t.” She shook her head. _This isn’t what I wanted from last night. This isn’t what I meant to happen._ His hands snaked around her, bringing her closer _._ She was beginning to see spots. She couldn’t stand on her own for much longer.

“Sansa.” He swallowed. “I-“

Sansa gasped, so loudly that she cut him off. Without realizing it, he had hurt her. His arms at the small of her back crushed her body to his, putting pressure onto her back and stomach, the most painful parts of her. Sansa’s hands went to his shoulders - she couldn’t stand up on her own. He pulled away from her, but kept his hands at her sides.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

Her breaths were coming shorter and more shallow than ever. She couldn’t think straight, let alone see straight. “My, my moonblood.” She could barely hear her voice over the rushing sound in her ears. “I don’t understand. I don’t understand.”

“Sansa. Look at me.” His voice was severe, but not cruel.

Her fingers at his shoulders were tingling. “I didn’t – didn’t even drink it.”

“Drink what? Sansa, look at me.” The last thing she saw was the flash of concern in Sandor’s eyes before she went limp in his arms.

* * *

Sandor

He noticed she was pale, but he thought it was just from a lack of sleep. If he was being honest, he hadn’t even thought that far. _What was I doing? What was I saying to her?_ His mind flashed back to hours before, when she had bent over in the saddle. _Fuck. And I grabbed her. I hurt her, after she’d already been hurting badly enough._

He tried to shake her awake, but it was of no use. She was out. He lifted her up easily enough into his arms and held her close to his chest. He turned back to the road.

By the time he got there, everyone had dismounted and were starting to prepare their tents for the evening camp. Sandor wasn’t sure where to go first. He knew Robb must be busy, and he had to admit that he was somewhat afraid of Shae right then, if her snapping at him before was any indication of how she thought of him. Sansa needed somewhere soft and warm to wake up. Then he saw it. The wheelhouse. He marched her right over to the door, pushing past nosy pests who got in his way. He knocked on it, with the hand that held her legs. At the noise, she shifted. He looked down as she whimpered, squinting her eyes shut even tighter, tucking her face closer to his chest, grapping onto the front of his cloak with both of her hands. The door opened.

“What’s happened?” The little queen’s eyes were wide. Her mouth was popped open, revealing the small gap between her two front teeth.

“She passed out.”

She moved aside and ushered them in, putting a finger to her lips. When he fit himself inside, he saw that the babies were sleeping. Queen Roslin pointed to a cushioned bench that ran along side of the wheelhouse. The same wide one that Sandor had laid on for days when his leg was burned. He remembered sitting up, waiting for Sansa to wake from her fever, talking to her in the dark of night. Never did he think that their relationship would have progressed to where they were now, whatever it was now. Sandor bent over to settle Sansa on the cushion. He let go of her legs, but they stayed bunched up to her chest. He went to lay her back and tried to let go, but something stopped him. Her hands, clutched on the fabric at his chest. Roslin bustled over.

“Sansa.” She whispered, reaching over Sandor to brush the hair away from her face. Sandor pulled back as much as she would allow and saw that her eyes were still squinted tightly shut. She was awake, otherwise she wouldn’t be so tense and taught. She wouldn’t be holding so tightly onto him. Even though she was awake, she was completely incoherent. His hands moved to hers and tried to pry her fingers from him. She moaned loudly and only pulled more of the fabric into her hands.

Sandor looked up at Roslin. She looked at him, her brow furrowed. She clearly wasn’t sure what to do either, seemingly not wanting Sansa to wake the babes.

She shook her head. “Would you mind, just, sitting with her? Until she relaxes at least?”

Sandor shook his head. “Not at all.”

He lifted her again and maneuvered her so that he was sitting on the bench, her arse was on the cushion next to his right leg. He held her up, his left arm still on her back, his fingers curling around her arm. He was supporting her weight on his arm, but with her lightness, he knew he could hold her like this for hours. His tried to straighten her legs out with his right hand, with Roslin’s help, but then he didn’t know where to put his hand.

Roslin seemed to notice the awkwardness. “Hmmm.” She scrunched her nose, thinking. She turned around and “Oh!” Her hands fluttered to a large, plush pillow. She picked it up and brought it to them, placing it on Sansa’s lap. He rested his arm on it and sighed. It was far from comfortable, but he couldn’t rightly put her on his lap as he wished too, and she was not going to let go without a fuss. Sandor shrugged his shoulders, trying to settle in, and looked up. The little queen’s face was still scrunched, but she, like Sandor, was unable to think of another solution.

He just shook his head. “It’s fine.”

Roslin sighed and sat herself across from him. “What happened exactly?” She asked again, keeping her voice quiet for the babes sleeping in the corner.

He shook his head, knowing he would have to lie, at least a bit. “I followed her into the woods.” He pushed past his own memory of what happened, how he had just wanted to speak to her and he thought of how she moved between the trees. “She was so pale, unsteady on her feet. I just wanted to make sure she was alright.” He swallowed and avoided the little queen’s skeptical eye. “When I got to her, she was hyperventilating. Before she passed out, she mentioned her moonblood.” Sandor had fought and survived many a battle. He’d been guard dog to perhaps the most twisted fuck in all the Seven Kingdoms, aside from his own brother perhaps. But the mention of a woman’s monthly blood was nearly enough to make him flush under his ugly skin. If he did, Roslin thankfully said nothing. Instead, a look of realization, understanding covered her small face.

She nodded, knowingly. “And all day riding too. No wonder she passed out. There’s no blood left in that pretty head of hers!” She stood up and smoothed her skirts. “I’ll go see what I can do to help her then.”

Sandor nodded and watched as she went out the door. There were several candles lit in the wheelhouse in the quickly darkening evening. It wasn’t necessarily warm, but it was better than outside, that much was certain. Sandor took advantage of their time alone. He pulled her closer to his chest and wrapped his right arm around her. He found the small of her back, and covered it with his hand. He pressed there, not too hard, and moved in slow, soft circles.

“Where is she!” It was Shae, outside. He could tell she was close, being able to hear her over the din.

“She’s inside.” Roslin was with her, her voice hushed, but he could still hear her. Sometimes Sandor couldn’t believe the way Shae acted. She was addressing the queen for fuck’s sake.

“Where’s Sandor.” _Oh buggering hells._

“He’s with her. He’s got her.”

“Like hells he does.” He heard shuffling feet in the dirt.

“Shae, no! The babies are sleeping. Besides, Sansa won’t let go of him.” He could almost hear Shae’s eyes rolling in her head. Roslin went on. “Could you do me a favor?”

He could hear Shae sigh, before she remembered herself. “Yes, your grace.”

“Could you please find a wineskin and have it filled with hot water for Sansa. She’s got her-“ “I know, your grace.” She sighed again. “I’ll be right back.”

“Thank you, Shae.”

Sandor waited, the girls’ footsteps disappearing into the night with all of the others as they settled the camp. He expected Roslin to come right back, but she didn’t. Not yet anyway. Sandor knew he should be out there, setting up his own tent, tending to Stranger. He was sure someone was doing the latter for him, at least. He couldn’t lie to himself - he was a little reluctant to sleep in a tent again. Last time he did, someone had tried to roast him alive. A mystery that he still hadn’t forgotten about, even with all that had happened between him and Sansa.

Sandor looked down at her. Her brow seemed to relax, but her knuckles were white from how she was gripped onto him. He didn’t know how, but something had changed since last night. Spending the whole night with her, and somehow miraculously being able to keep up with her enthusiasm, there was something that just switched in his head. He’d had it set in his mind - that last night was going to be his very last night with her. But the thought of never touching her again, kissing her, breathing her in, it was a thought that physically pained him. He was set on ending things and never looking back, but was beginning to seriously doubt whether that was even possible for him to do.

Knowing that she had her moonblood gave Sandor another strange feeling in his chest. On the one hand, he was glad. Glad that she wouldn’t have to explain away a bastard dog. Glad that she wasn’t going to be _completely_ ruined by him. On the other, there was an odd bitterness. He didn’t know how to understand it and he couldn’t truly explain it to himself. Was it disappointment? That she wasn’t pregnant? _No. It can’t be._ Was it the fact that she had acted, like he advised her to do, to prevent or even end any such pregnancy? He knew there were ways for women to prevent becoming pregnant. A tea, he remembered. _That’s must be how she did it._

As if she could read his mind, Sansa hummed into his chest. He looked down. She shook her head as she nuzzled into him. And then he heard her voice in his head. _Didn’t even drink it._ His hand on her back froze. _She didn’t drink it. So she had it? But_ chose _not to drink it?_

“Why?” He reached up to her face, and moved his thumb under her eye. Her skin was so pale, almost completely translucent, the blueish green veins under her eyes prominent “What’s going on in that head of yours, little bird?” Even if she didn’t drink it, she clearly wasn’t pregnant.

Sandor heard the steps creak as someone approached the door of the wheelhouse. He snapped his hand back to the pillow and pulled her further away from his chest, the way she was before. It was just in time. Roslin came in with a wineskin in her hand.

“She let go yet?”

Sandor shook his head.

“Hmmm.” She shrugged. “Maybe this will help her relax.” She moved forward with the wineskin, moved Sansa’s folded up cloak out of the way and placed it on her belly, near Sandor’s arm. He could feel the heat of it, even though it was a few inches away.

Roslin checked over the sleeping princess and prince before settling herself across from Sandor again. She put her hands in her lap. “I talked Robb. He tried to come in and check on her, but I told him that we were taking good care of her.” She smiled, showing that gap between her teeth again. Pretty little thing, she was. It was then that Sandor realized he never really ever spoke to her before. He didn’t know if he should strike up conversation. Or what he would ever say. Instead, he rested his head against the wall behind him, with nothing else to entertain him. He shut his eyes, lowering his arm a little so that Sansa was leaning further back into his lap. How she still clutched onto him, he didn’t know.

After a moment, he heard the little queen moving about. He squinted an eye open when the sound stopped. She was settled back in her spot, with some needlework in her hands. She had brought a candle closer in order to continue her occupation in the dark. Sandor sighed and rested his head back again. He didn’t get much sleep at all last night. Not that he minded. After a while, he felt himself doze off to the sound of Roslin’s needle and thread being pulled through the fabric, and the soft murmurs of the sleeping babies, only to be woken up again after just a few minutes by Sansa stirring on him.

He sniffed and looked down. Sansa had finally relaxed. She seemed to be asleep now. Her fingers had finally let go of their grip. But the way she had moved was disconcerting, considering their company in the wheelhouse. She had turned on her right side, toward him. In the short minutes that he had let himself doze off, he had managed to let her lay completely in his lap, where she was using his arm as the most uncomfortable pillow he could imagine. Her left hand was flat against his stomach, her right arm, she was holding around her middle, clutching the heat of the skin to her, her fingers there somehow, touching his.

He was hoping she would wake up. Not just because he needed to talk to her about – everything. He just wanted her to be alright. _She’s passed out way too many times around me_. As much as he enjoyed holding her close to him, he’d much prefer it if she were awake. Although, even in her sleep, it seemed as though she was happy to have him near.

“Sandor.”

His head snapped up. _Fuck._ In the near darkness, he could still see Roslin staring at him. Her needlework was in her lap, and he realized that he hadn’t heard the steady movement of her work for at least a few minutes. He saw her eyes flash to the side and followed to where they moved. His hand. Holding Sansa’s. _Fuck me._ He jerked his hand away back to the pillow and clenched it into a fist. _When did that even happen?_

“Sandor?” Roslin said again. He made himself look at her. Her eyes were glittering in the candlelight. It made her look older than her years. Although, that may have also been the utterly confused look that accosted her delicate features.

Sandor swallowed, and hoped she wouldn’t notice. “Your grace?”

He looked her in the eye, and to her credit, her gaze did not falter. He head her take a short breath. Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper. But he still heard every word, every syllable of her question, loud and clear.

“How long have you loved her?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ummmmmm..... uh oh?
> 
> on another note, I finished this baby last night, but I was delirious after two interviews and work for the rest of the night so I waited until now to revise. Hope its ok! Off to work again! I will be checking back eagerly to see what y'all think!!!


	77. Chapter 77

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my one day off. I wrote this at the beach. On the computer. At the beach.....
> 
> AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT!

Roslin

Walder Frey was never a kind man, nor was he a loving father. But there were times in her young life when Roslin knew that he cared for her more than her sisters. It often made her feel guilty, his obvious preference of her, but she usually felt oddly proud. One of those such occasions was when her father selected her as the wife and queen for the King in the North. Her sisters claimed they knew it was going to be her, but Roslin didn’t let herself believe it until her father told her himself. After the initial shock wore off, a sense of uncertainty, and a little bit of fear crept into her mind.

Roslin had never met Robb Stark. She’d never even seen him. But here she was, betrothed to him. His reputation for a strong and just leader preceded him. As did word of his handsome features. Roslin found herself worrying over the little gap between her front teeth. What would he think of her? It wasn’t until she saw him for the first time, walking toward him in the sept, that she let herself believe the rumors of his looks.

Even then, Roslin did not love Robb the first time she saw him. She was pleased with his appearance, and his kindness toward her. But that was all she knew about him. Yes, they laid together every night. But the weeks that came after the wedding their nights together were all she saw of him. He was busy from sun up to sun down, strategizing for his next plan of action in the war. They never really got to talk very much at all. The first night, after the awkwardness and embarrassment of the bedding ceremony, when Robb had spilled his seed inside of her, they laid next to each other, staring at the ceiling. He asked her if she was alright, she said yes, and they fell asleep. The next few nights were the same, until one night when Roslin found her pleasure with him. By the look in his eyes as she started to sigh under him, he was just as shocked as she was. That night, he pulled her close afterward and she fell asleep with her head on his chest.

Roslin knew he didn’t love her yet either. A strange thing, being wedded and bedded, and not truly know the person you are sleeping next to. But that is the way it was always done. Roslin had to consider herself lucky. Walda had been married off to Roose Bolton. She didn’t seem to mind, but Roslin couldn’t imagine touching that loose pale skin of his, couldn’t imagine him looking at her with those icy pale eyes. Roslin didn’t have to worry about that. Robb’s eyes were kind. Gentle.

She realized one day that they had never even said each other’s names. She figured that she just avoided it, not knowing if she had to call him ‘your grace’ even in bed. She couldn’t imagine calling him Robb just yet, as strange as it seemed. Still, they rarely spoke. That was until one night, about two weeks after their wedding. They were in bed together, but she could tell that his mind was on something else. She fought herself in her mind, warring with wanting to comfort him and overstepping her bounds. In the end, she went with the former.

“Is everything alright?” She asked him. Her voice sounded quieter than she had hoped it would be.

He turned to her then. In the firelight of their bedroom, she could see that his bright blue eyes were wet. Before she knew what was happening, he grabbed her and buried his face in her chest. She was so shocked, she wasn’t sure what to do. On her naked skin, she could feel the tears that fell from his eyes, but he didn’t make a sound. With nothing else to do, she wrapped her arms around him, putting her hand in his hair. She moved her fingers across his scalp until he eventually fell asleep.

After that night, he finally started to talk to her about things. Not about his strategies and plans for the war, but about his family. She knew that right before they were married, he had come from Winterfell. He was successful in taking back his home and getting rid of the ironborn scum. But his brothers were still missing. He told her how he was beginning to lose hope in the search parties that he had sent out for them. He talked to her about Theon Greyjoy, the turncloak, his best friend, his surrogate brother. He couldn’t explain how he felt about having to cut off Theon’s head, but he spoke about it, and Roslin believed that it helped him. More than anything, he spoke about his sisters. Arya and Sansa. He’d all but lost hope for Arya, but Roslin could tell that his love for Sansa was what kept him going. She could see that he wanted to bring her home, to the safety of Winterfell, more than he wanted to be king.

Soon, Robb began to make time for her during the day. He would usually eat his meals in the solar surrounded by his men. But he started to come out to the great hall in the evenings and sit with her. They talked about trivial things, not the serious topics to which they left for the privacy of their bedroom. They talked about their families, their siblings. Roslin had more to share on that topic, of course. As she continued to talk, she thought that Robb would become disinterested. But he always listened, commented where appropriate and asked her thoughtful questions.

One night, he stayed later than usual after they finished their meal. Roslin was telling him something that had happened to her when she was small. A funny embarrassing story. There were so many in her life that she couldn’t even remember which one it was. But when she was finished, Robb laughed. He laughed out loud. Others around them even turned around to watch him, shocked at the sound coming from the solemn king. The others were shocked at first, but then they smiled. From across the room, Roslin saw his lady mother smiling at her son. Soon, Roslin found herself laughing with her husband. She laughed so hard that she snorted. Her face turned beat red and it only made Robb laugh harder. She realized two things then. It was the first time she had seen him smile, for one. It was also the first moment that she realized she loved him. That night when they were alone, they laughed and loved each other, for once, not taking everything so seriously.

The next morning, Robb broke his fast with her. They didn’t talk very much, but she could feel his eyes on her for most of the meal. Soon, he was called away. He said a pleasant goodbye, but before he could make it through the door, he turned around and looked at her. She met his eyes and smiled at him, no longer self-conscious about the gap in her teeth. Robb didn’t smile back, but his face was soft. He seemed to be deep in thought, or like he wanted to say something. His brow was furrowed ever-so-slightly for a moment, until she watched his eyes slowly widen. She stopped smiling at him then, but he said nothing before turning away.

That night, when they laid together, he didn’t take his eyes off of hers. Not for a moment. And when they finished, he sighed her name into her ear. The shivers he gave her told her enough; that look her gave her in the morning - that was the moment he realized he loved her. Roslin always thought it was that very night that they conceived Lyanna and Eddard.

He didn’t look at her like that all of the time now, but there were times that she still caught him. When he returned to her after King’s Landing. The first time he saw his children. One evening when Rickon made her laugh so hard that wine came out of her nose. When they danced together at the celebration ball at Winterfell. She would know the look anywhere.

And she saw it now, in the face of another man. Sandor Clegane, staring down at her goodsister sleeping on his lap. She couldn’t be sure at first, but then she saw how he held her hand, how he bent himself over her so protectively.

She put her needlework down and looked at his face again. _I’ve seen it on him before._ Her mind went back, searching through her memories of Sandor and Sansa. The first time she saw him, at the Twins with Sansa, she was so horribly pregnant, so uncomfortable that she didn’t even react to his face, his scars. She didn’t see him much there, but she remembered now. _How have I never seen it before?_ She saw it when Sansa and her party were leaving for Winterfell. How he stood dutifully behind her as Roslin said goodbye. She saw it as he came for Sansa one afternoon when she was playing with Lyanna. She saw it as he stood to the side and watched Sansa dance all night at the ball. She saw it when Sansa fell asleep at the dinner table and he had to carry her to her rooms. And she saw it now, right in front of her. And there was no denying it.

“Sandor.”

His head snapped up to her, he dropped Sansa’s hand. “Your grace?”

She didn’t think. It was just so obvious. And she just had to know. The words just slipped from her mouth. “How long have you loved her?”

Sandor’s face didn’t change. He held her eyes, for so long that Roslin started to feel uncomfortable. _Stupid, what kind of question is that? You can’t just ask him that!_ Her instincts told her to look away from his gaze, but she pushed them back. _You’re the queen, for the sake of the gods! Act like it._ She raised her chin. “How long, Sandor?”

At the sound of his name, his eyes suddenly soften again. But he still didn’t look away. Instead, he slowly, ever-so-slightly, shook his head. When his words came, they were a grumble. So quiet and muddled that she had to lean forward to hear them.

“I’m not entirely sure.”

Roslin let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. _So it’s true then. Sansa’s sworn shield is in love with his own charge_. She couldn’t say she was surprised that he didn’t try to deny it. Roslin had never really spoken to him before, but he had always seemed to be an honest sort of man.

She swallowed her nerves before she continued. “It’s been a long time though, hasn’t it.” She didn’t mean it as a question.

He blinked. She watched his shoulders rise and fall with the deep breath he took. “I suppose it has.”

Roslin nodded, trying to process this new information. She looked down at Sansa. She was wrapped around him. Her knees pulled up tight, her head resting on his arm in his lap. And another thought came to her. “Does she love you too?” Her head snapped up again to face him. He just shook his head. “Does she know you love her?”

“No.” The word came out fast. It was curt and rough. He took another breath. “I would appreciate it, your grace, if it could remain that way.”

 _He doesn’t want her to know._ “May I be so bold as to ask why? Why you wouldn’t want her to know.”

“What good would it do her?” A short breath came from his nose. A laugh. “What good would it do me?”

Roslin nodded again. She didn’t know why she asked that. _Of course he wouldn’t want Sansa to know._

 _But, shouldn’t she know? What would she think? Would she be afraid of him? Would she send him away?_ She looked at Sansa again. She was obviously comfortable with Sandor. With this new knowledge, Roslin found herself looking back. _Was she too comfortable with him?_ She remembered how Sansa had clutched onto him just before. _No. She wouldn’t be afraid of him. But he’s right. What could her knowing change about anything?_ _It’s not as if they could be together. It’s not as if she loved him too_. She looked at her again, remembered how they were holding each other’s hands. _But what if she did?_ Sandor seemed sure that she didn’t, but Roslin wasn’t that certain anymore. Maybe she could talk to Sansa. Maybe she could find out.

“Your grace?” She looked up at him again. “It would be good of you, to keep this between us.”

“You mean, don’t tell Robb?” He nodded. She hadn’t thought of telling Robb. If Robb found out, then he would have him sent away. If Robb knew, then Sansa would know. She tried to picture Sansa without Sandor behind her. It seemed almost unnatural. For some reason, she couldn’t picture Sansa being happy with that. “I won’t tell him. I promise.”

He sighed, obviously relaxed. “Thank you.”

Roslin swallowed, glancing down to Sansa again, still sleeping like a baby, safe in the arms of her hound. “But you’re sure, that she shouldn’t know?”

“I’m sure.” He sighed. She watched him move his arm that was underneath her, and grip her arm. His other arm snaked under her knees. Slowly, he stood, and lifted her, watching her as he spoke. “She’s going to marry her perfect knight, have the life she always wanted.” He turned with her in his arms and settled her back on the cushion.

With his back to her, Roslin couldn’t help the words that came from her mouth. “You’re going to be alright with that? Standing by, watching her marry another? Watching her love him, bear his children?” Roslin didn’t know when she had become so bold, but her words shocked her.

He settled Sansa’s head on the pillow and tucked the warm wineskin against her belly. “Don’t have a choice in the matter, your grace.” He turned back to Roslin, looking down at her. She was surprised that he didn’t bite her head off with her questions, but he just looked so – _defeated_. “Like I said, it’s what she’s always wanted. No matter what she says.” He shrugged as he walked to the door. _I guess the conversation is over_. “Just want to let her be.” He bowed his head at her before he opened the door and left. Roslin heard the words he didn’t say. _He just wants her to be happy._

Roslin stood up, putting her needlework away. She sighed and looked over Lyanna and Ned. They were sound asleep. She watched them, for a while, feeling the smile settling on her face. _He’s right_ , she thought again. Disrupting Sansa’s plans with uncomfortable information would do no one any good, especially her. Sansa’s life is getting back to normal. She didn’t know what was going to come from it, when she initially asked Sandor. Even though she knew Sandor was in love with Sansa, she supposed her knowing wouldn’t have to change anything at all. _Soon, Sansa will be married. She will have the life she wants, so close to home. She will have babies with Gawen and be as happy as me and Robb. Like Sandor said, it’s what she’s always wanted._

Roslin froze. _But that’s not all he said._ She went back, trying to remember word for word. ‘It’s what she’s always wanted. No matter what she says.’

_No matter what she says?_

_What in the name of the Mother does that mean?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again. I say, I wrote this at the beach. Then went to Leggetts (its a bar) and celebrated national tequila day and now I'm home and going in the pool and posting it. Don't judge me. Or judge me all you want. I just love the little queen. 
> 
> ALSO: I'm a blonde now.  
> Working at the salon again for only a week has changed me hard. Mr. Fancy Kid's sister, who I incidentally happen to work with, made me a blonde yesterday. I think I might share a pic with you guys because I need to know if its ok. I like it a lot actually. Kinda look like Rachel McAdams for true now. The True Detective kind of Rachel McAdams. Ugh. Okay bye. 
> 
> LETS HEAR SOME LOVE FOR THE LITTLE QUEEN?!?!!?!


	78. Chapter 78

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY CANNOLI I MISSED YOU ALL SO MUCH!!  
> Warning: This one is a tad miserable. Plot developing soon, not very exciting. Next one though... yea that might be fun.

Sansa

Crying. It was the first thing she heard. It was a sharp, loud sound that pierced her inner ear. Sansa opened her eyes slowly, her lids heavy with too much sleep. She was in the wheelhouse. On the cushioned side where Sandor had spent the last few days of their journey to Winterfell. She was on her side, her head on a pillow, a warm fur pulled up to her chin. The wheelhouse was moving. Her arms were clutched around her middle, holding something warm to herself. _A wineskin?_ The sound of a babe’s cries were still loud in her ears.

“I had to share a tent with Mallory. They wouldn’t let me sleep in the _royal_ one on my own.” Shae. She sat in a cushioned chair in the back corner of the wheelhouse. Eddard was in her lap, wailing away.

“I’m sorry.” Sansa licked her lips. “She stayed in the tent?”

“At least until I was asleep.” Shae lifted Ned over her head, smiling up at him, effectively turning his cries into bells of laughter. “The king and queen stayed in here with you and the babes. They’re both riding now.”

Sansa felt a little guilty. She was supposed to stay in the tent with Shae. Robb made sure they Sansa would have a comfortable warm tent every night. It was very large, with a pallet that looked as comfortable as the cushion she was on now. The wheelhouse was for Robb, Roslin and the twins. She knew they wouldn’t have minded her presence, she just felt bad leaving Shae on her own.

“What happened?”

“You passed out. Sandor brought you here.” _Sandor._ He followed her into the woods. She was so dizzy then, she could barely remember. _Was he trying to tell me something?_ “He stayed with you for a while.” Shae continued. “I got you the wineskin, filled it with hot water. You’ve been out ever since.”

Sansa pressed the skin to her belly. “It’s still warm.”

Shae shrugged. “I changed it a few hours ago.”

“Thank you.” Sansa sighed and sat up. Slowly. The ache was still in her belly and her lower back, but the kind she was used to getting every month now. She sat up straight and leaned her head against the back wall. “Where is he now?”

“Sandor?” Shae shrugged, disinterested. “I imagine he’s riding right behind us.” Sansa nodded. She was expecting never to talk to Sandor about the last month they had spent together. They were both supposed to forget about it. “So, the moon tea. Works fast doesn’t it?”

Sansa stood and stretched her aching muscles. She sighed and went to the crib where Lyanna laid sleeping. She reached in and brushed her fingers through the loose dark curls that were forming on the little girl’s head. She took a breath, and felt it hitch in her throat. “I didn’t drink it Shae.”

“What?” Sansa turned to Shae. Her face went slack. If Ned wasn’t on her lap, she was sure Shae would have dropped him. “Why!”

Sansa shook her head and sighed. “I don’t know. I took a sip. I had it in my mouth, even. But I couldn’t swallow it. I spit it out after just a second.”

Shae blinked at her. “But the cup, it was empty.”

Sansa shrugged and looked to the side. “I _may_ have dumped it out the window.”

“ _Sansa_.”

“Don’t scold me Shae.” She put her hands on her hips. “Doesn’t matter anyway. I have my moonblood now.” Shae’s brow furrowed, but she didn’t say anything. Sansa knew she was thinking the same thing as her. Sansa started to pace the floor. The more she thought about it, the more panicked she felt herself becoming. ”What does this mean? I didn’t drink it. I should be –“, she lowered her voice as if Lyanna and Ned could understand the words she said. “I should be pregnant.”

Shae looked down at Ned. She lifted him and put him in the crib next to Lyanna. She put her hands on her lap, seemingly gathering her thoughts. “How long have you been having sex with him?”

Sansa bit her lip, strangely still shy to admit things like this out loud. “Two weeks.”

Shae nodded. “And when were you due for your moonblood?”

Sansa moved her hands to her stomach. “Now. But why is it so much worse than any other I’ve had before?” Shae leaned back, thinking. Sansa found that she was tapping her fingers against herself where her hand rested at her hip. “And if – if I _was_ pregnant? What does that mean? How could I lose the - the child so quickly?” Shae became blurry as Sana’s eyes became wet. She blinked away any tears before they could fall – before Shae could notice them.

“When’s the last time you truly had a long, restful sleep?”

Sansa thought back to the last couple of weeks sleeping with Sandor. It was true, when she did sleep, it was deep, but never long. They stayed up together for most of the night until they eventually fell asleep, well-sated, but exhausted, entangled and once, she thought with a blush, even still connected. Before that, she never slept through the night, not unless she let herself take out his cloak.

Shae looked at her. “Sansa, I don’t think you were pregnant.”

Sansa sat down with a huff. “How can you be sure?”

Shae shrugged. “I can’t.” She scratched a spot behind her ear. “I just - are you not stressed with everything that has been going on?”

“You know I am.”

Shae nodded, and Sansa could tell her mind was awhirl with thoughts. “I’ve heard tell of women who had trouble getting with child because they were extremely stressed. Lack of sleep.” She leaned forward toward Sansa. “Besides, I remember the first time I got my moonblood after I lost my maidenhead. It was heavier than usual. More intense, painful.” Shae pointed at her, suddenly looking sure of herself. “And you were on horseback for hours after.” She shook her head. “Sansa. I really don’t think you were pregnant.”

Sansa felt a surge of relief flow through her veins. She leaned forward and grabbed Shae’s hands. “Really? Do you really believe that?”

Shae shrugged. “Obviously I can’t be sure, but it makes most sense to me.” Sansa sat back in her chair. She put her hands to her stomach. She pursed her lips together and let out a slow steady breath. Shae sighed before she spoke. “I just don’t understand Sansa. Did you – do you want Sandor’s _bastard_ child?” She let out a mirthless laugh of disbelief.

Sansa shook her head. “Of course not.”

“Then, why are you so upset?”

She shook her head again. “I – I don’t really know.” Sansa leaned forward and put her head in her hand.

Shae was quiet for a while and Sansa let the question run through her mind. _Do you want Sandor’s bastard child? No_. She did not want a bastard child. She knew how difficult it was for Jon growing up. She would never want that for her own child. Sansa realized that was why she had answered the question so quickly. She answered no to bearing a _bastard_. But Sandor’s child? She closed her eyes, seeing the little girl in her mind. Freckles smattering her nose, a twinkling laugh. Her mind unwillingly let the dream continue. She watched the little girl as she spun and laughed, her little dress twirling around her. She saw her get lifted up into the air by the strong hands of her father. She could hear them, laughing together. One as bright as the stars, the other rumbling and deep from within his chest.

 _Sandor. Our child. A beautiful thing she would be. Could be._ Sansa swallowed back something close to a sob. _Won’t ever be._

As if reading her mind, Shae asked another question. “Well, how are you feeling? Being done with him?”

Sansa looked up at her. “Shae.” She shook her head, and let the tears finally fall. “I don’t know how I’m going bear it.”

* * *

Sandor

He barely got any sleep. He didn’t want to leave her last night, but he couldn’t bear the little queen’s questions for another moment. Being alone with his thoughts on the day’s long ride, Sandor had plenty of time to think everything through.

He was honestly surprised with himself. _The Hound_ would have jumped down her throat just for suggesting anything like she did. But he let her question. Worse, he gave her answers.

_When did you lose your bark, dog?_

Sandor could barely remember a time in his life that he hadn’t been feared. Not just for his face, but for his behavior, his gruffness and all together rudeness. His temper too. _When was the last time that had even happened?_ Sandor went back and tried to think of the last time he’d lost his temper. The night of the ball. Fighting with Sansa in the glass gardens. Well, that ended better than he imagined. The time before? Her nameday, fighting with her in the inn. Knocking Ser Greenboy out cold. The time before that was when he heard Ramsay Bolton talking about Sansa. He hadn’t lost his temper, but he’d gotten very close. Everything revolved around Sansa, he realized.

_Hasn’t it always?_

Being her shadow for so long now had changed him more than he realized was even possible. He didn’t have to threaten anyone, hurt anyone. _Everyone loves Sansa._ No one would ever want to hurt her, especially in her home. The closer he got to Sansa, the more calm he had become. His life in Winterfell was a simple one. He got to spend his days with the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. He got to know her little shit of a brother, share with him the skills that he had obtained over the years. He got to watch Sansa for the rest of the day, accompanying her with whatever she had to do or had wanted to do. He never imagined that he would be so content with such a _boring_ life. But with her, around her, it could never be boring. He’d been riding behind the wheelhouse all day, not expecting her to come out, but he wanted to be as close as possible. It was his job, after all.

Sandor sighed and shifted in the saddle. _So the little queen knows._

He knew there was no use denying her accusations. He thought, at first, that she would run off to her husband and have him sent off to the wall, only to be sent over to the other side by her other overprotective brother. But she had promised that she wouldn’t tell him, and oddly, he believed her. Still, her questions unnerved him. It was one thing if it was Rickon talking to him about things. Rickon didn’t know what he was talking about. But Roslin? She knew. She loves Robb. Seeing the two together, the way they looked at each other sometimes, Sandor often found himself rolling his eyes at them.

The way the little queen looked at him when he admitted to loving Sansa still confused him. She wasn’t shocked. She just looked thoughtful. Probably realizing how obvious it should have been. _Good thing her husband isn’t so intuitive. But why was she so confused about my not wanting to tell Sansa? Why wasn’t she_ – _appalled_? _Strange little queen._ If only he could have seen in her mind the way he wished to see into Sansa’s. _He didn’t understand. She didn’t drink the moontea. Why would she be so foolish? What was she thinking?_

He hated to think it, but he was almost glad Sansa had passed out when she did. It snapped him out of whatever fucking daze he got himself into. He didn’t know what he was thinking. Didn’t know what he was going to say. _Was I – Was I going to tell her that I loved her?_ _Bloody hells. What a fucking mess I would have made._

He didn’t know what Sansa would say when she saw him again. But he knew what he would do. Nothing. He wouldn’t make that mistake again, letting his emotions get in the way. He was her shield. That’s all he ever should have been. All he would be from here on out.

* * *

Shae

Sandor’s mumbling like there were marbles in his mouth and Sansa’s stuttering over her words when they finally ran into each other again; she’d never seen anything more awkward in her life.

Sansa broke down in front of her in the wheelhouse, so hard that she really didn’t know what to do. It hurt her to see her friend in such shambles. After the initial shock wore off, she made her way next to Sansa and put her arm around her.

Sansa told her how she loved Sandor. How he had tried to end it with her so coldly. How much those few words had hurt her and how angry it had made her. How she knew that she had to end it, but how difficult it was going to be. She told Shae about her nerves with taking the moontea. Shae didn’t do much talking. At first, she had tried to insert her opinion or offer some soothing words, but Sansa just cut her off and continued on every time she tried. Eventually, she just listened as the words poured from Sansa’s lips. By the time she talked everything out, Sansa’s tears had run dry. Her eyes were swollen and red, but her face was devoid of any emotion.

“Sansa. Are you going to be alright?”

Sansa just blinked. “I have to be, don’t I?” She turned to her. “There’s nothing left.”

Shae wasn’t exactly sure what she meant by those words, but she somehow understood her. There was something so – _final_ \- about it. So absolute. So horribly tragic. Shae knew then that there was nothing else to say.

When the sun finally went down, the camp settled in for the night. The king and queen came inside, their faces rosy from the cold. They both fussed over Sansa, making sure she was alright, Roslin more so. Sansa’s face was a mask of indifference, so much like the one that she used to wear in King’s Landing. Shae sighed. _The girl shouldn’t have to be afraid to be honest in her own home._

Sandor was at the door when she and Sansa left. Sansa froze in the doorway. Shae peeked around her and saw Sandor, his grey eyes were open wide as he stared up at her. She saw him swallow before her spoke, his voice rumbling out from his chest.

“How are you?”

Sansa was silent under his gaze, but Shae couldn’t see his face. Shae poked her in the shoulder.

“Bet-Better.” She stuttered out. “Well.”

They stared at each other for another moment. It felt like an hour, until Shae had to poke her in the back to push her forward.

Sandor held his arm out for her, and she went to take it, but seemed to think better of it. Shae got down the steps and went to walk ahead of them, to let them talk if need be. But Sansa wrapped her hand around Shae’s elbow, muttering something about the cold wind. They made their way to their surprisingly warm and welcoming tent, Sandor trailing behind them the short distance. When they got there, Shae gently shook Sansa’s hand away, and held the flap of the tent open. To her surprise, Sansa turned to Sandor.

“Goodnight-“

“I’ll just be-“

They both spoke at the same time. Shae gritted her teeth together. It was so awkward and uncomfortable. But she couldn’t look away. Sansa blushed heavily and Sandor just stared down at his boots.

Shae coughed. “Goodnight, Sandor.”

He looked up at her, blinked and nodded. “Right. I’ll be staying there.” He pointed to the more modest tent next to theirs. “Should you have need of me.”

Sansa pulled her shoulders back, let out a breath and whipped around through the heavy flaps of the tent. Shae watched Sandor, staring at the spot where Sansa had been standing. She just wanted to smack their heads together. _If they want to work on convincing themselves that they don’t love each other, then they shouldn’t make it so bloody obvious._

* * *

Sansa

Sansa couldn’t believe how she had broken down in front of Shae. She had never intended to, but somehow it felt better now, not having to bear it all on her own. Sansa couldn’t explain it, not to Shae, not even to herself. After she had cried to her, told her everything, all that was left was an overwhelming sense of emptiness. It felt like the day she finally went to see where Lady was buried. And then her father. All she wanted to do was curl up in a ball in her bed and never leave her room. But her bed was back at Winterfell and she was on the road to Deepwood Motte to visit her betrothed and that was not an option.

 _I am a Princess. Then a Stark. All before I am Sansa._ It’s what she realized in the wheelhouse with Shae. She didn’t say the words out loud, but it was all she needed to hear in her head to snap out of it. She loved Sandor. She could never be with him. She would have to get over it. _It’s as simple as that._

She was thankful that Shae didn’t try to talk to her about it again. Even more thankful that Sandor had kept his distance, as much as was possible for her own sworn shield. He rode Stranger behind her and Shae. The three were silent for the most part. Every now and then Sansa would hear a loud shriek of laughter from not far enough behind her. _Mallory._ As Sansa’s handmaiden, she should have been riding with her. Instead, she rode toward the back with Darol. Not like Sansa minded. She just couldn’t stand the sound of her laughter anymore. She swore she could hear Sandor cursing under his breath too.

When they finally stopped for the night, Sansa was sore from riding and aching from her moonblood, but not nearly as bad as before. She was beyond exhausted. She could barely wait for her tent to be set up. She just wanted to collapse the ground and sleep near one of the fires. But she had waited, like the good princess she was for the tent to be prepared. As soon as it was ready, she curled into her pallet and fell asleep sooner than she thought was possible. She did it all, without saying a word to Sandor, considering that in itself a success.

Her sleep was not restful, nor was it long. It was the same way the night before. She woke with a start, sitting straight up in her pallet. Her hair was plastered to her forehead and her neck from sweat. Her heart was racing in her ears. She couldn’t even remember her nightmare by the time she realized that’s all it was. All she thought of was how long it had been since she’d had one. How nice it had been without such horrible thoughts and twisted memories invading her mind. _Just something else I’ll have to learn to deal with again._

She turned and looked at Shae. She was still asleep. Her mind unwittingly went to the last words Sandor directed at her the other night. That he was right in the tent next to hers. She didn’t let herself think of what he meant by that, and she pushed the thought away both then and now. Sansa was still so confused by how he had tried to end it with her the other morning, how he had tried to push her away. She was so hurt, so angry from it still. She wouldn't let herself think more about the moontea, and why she sent the liquid flying out the window into the cold morning air. She just hoped Shae was right; that she hadn't been pregnant at all to begin with. That it was the stress, lack of sleep and little amount of time that she and Sandor had together that kept her moonblood on schedule. She remembered Roslin's painful and arduous labor with the twins and how she figured it would be easier for her and her body shape. _But what if I can never get pregnant at all?_

Sansa watched the coals in the brazier turn dark as the night wore on, until finally, the clouded light of the morning began to slowly brighten the tent. She was still awake when she heard the first men begin to move, bustle about and close up their nightly arrangements. She heard them move horses about in the paddock that they made close by, readying their saddles and supplies for the last day of the short journey. And then voices were raised. Men were shouting. Horses were causing a ruckus. She heard the sound of heavy hooves coming closer, until she was sure he was going to crash right into her tent, but he fly right by her. She could see his silhouette through the thick fabric of the tent. Sansa was lacing up her boots before she had another chance to think about it. She grabbed her cloak and wrapped it around herself before tearing out of the tent. She turned and followed to where Stranger had disappeared into the trees, ignoring the shouts coming from the men in the paddock.

Sansa moved between the trees, making sure to follow the heavy tracks he had left in the dusting of snow on the ground. _Sandor better get a handle on his beast_ , she thought. _I’m not going to be able to do this for the rest of my life._ Sansa sighed so loudly that she almost didn’t hear the shriek. She froze and heard it again. She continued forward, faster this time, until she saw it.Stranger had made his way to a very small clearing in the trees. And he wasn’t alone.

“Mallory?” She was holding her hand close to her chest, backing up into a large three behind her.

“He bit me!” She shouted.

“What?”

“The Hound’s _beast_! He bit me!”

“Stranger _bit you_? Why?”

Mallory shook out her hand and pointed at Stranger with the other. “He came in here, running at me and I just tried to push him back!” Stranger stepped closer to her and sniffed at her outstretched hand. Mallory thought better of it, yelping and pulling her hand to her chest.

“Stranger.” Sansa bit back a smile that threatened her lips. “Stranger that enough.” He stopped his advances, and flicked his tail. Sansa strode up to him. She ran her fingers along his tall back as she walked toward his head near Mallory, whose wide eyes watched her the whole while. Sansa got in front of him, reached up high and scratched him behind the ear. “Come on, boy. That’s about enough.” He harrumphed and lifted his nose to her forehead. She closed her eyes and felt him sniff her face. She couldn’t help the smile that came to her mouth. He huffed and blew her hair away from her face.

Sansa squinted one eye open and turned her head toward Mallory.

“Is your hand alright? Can it wait for Deepwood’s maester?” _Like we have another choice._

Mallory’s eyes shifted between Sansa and Stranger. “I suppose I can make it until then. I don’t know how I’ll be able to hold the reigns of my horse though.” She held out her hand and frowned at it.

“Well, perhaps you can share with Ser Darol? I’m sure he’s used to the burden.” She paused, purposefully, knowing the look on Mallory’s face would be worth it, and she was rewarded well. “His _horse_ I mean.”

She watched Mallory swallow. She raised her chin and blinked. “Of course.”

Sansa couldn’t resist. “Where are you coming from at this hour in the morning Mallory?”

Mallory turned redder that she’d ever seen her, but she closed her mouth that had been left gaping open and just turned away, back to the camp.

Sansa watched her go and Stranger nuzzled against her shoulder. She turned back to him. “You bit her, huh?” She stroked his nose, in between his eyes and he blinked at her. She leaned in closer. “Good boy.” He huffed out at her and she pulled away. “Come then, Stranger. Time to start the rest of our lives.” She kept her hand on Stranger’s neck, gripping her fingers in his mane, and turned him, leading him easily enough back the way they came.

She saw Sandor before she got to the tree line, before he could see her. He was rushing toward the trees, tucking his undershirt into his breeches. They must have just woke him up to tell him to fetch his horse. Sansa took a deep breath and lifted her chin. She pushed Stranger forward and quickened her pace. She wouldn’t be alone with Sandor in the woods again. They came out of the trees just as Sandor looked up. His mouth popped open and his eyes were wide. Sansa and Stranger stopped as he approached them.

He cleared his throat. “Damn horse. Keep acting this way, going to have to trade you in.” He patted Stranger on the shoulder.

Sansa’s immediate instinct was to leave him there, but for some reason she hesitated. “Don’t be cross with him.” She swallowed and breathed out, forcing herself to look at him. His eyes were half closed, heavy bags from lack of sleep underneath them. His breath turned to steam in the cold. His shirt wasn’t was loose at his neck. Her eyes honed in on a spot on the base of his neck - a dark mark, yellowing at the edges, the size of her mouth. She put her fingers to her own lips, remembering the taste of his skin under them. She swallowed again and spoke through her fingers. “He bit Mal.”

Sandor raised his brow at her. “Did he now?” She couldn’t help the way the corner of her mouth turned up when his did the same. “See if we can’t find you an apple, hmm?”

Sansa felt that there was nothing else to say. Nothing appropriate between a princess and her shield, at any rate. She turned and left to return to her tent, feeling his eyes on her back the whole way.

 _There. That wasn’t so bad,_ she convinced herself. Sansa thought that it would take much longer for her to be able to talk to him again, the way they used to, before – everything. More horribly bitter than sweet, but the realization that things could go back to the way they were was one that resonated with her in that very moment.

Signs that they were approaching Deepwood came faster than Sansa had expected. The roadway became more defined and the trees became more densely packed around it. The wind had dissipated and the silence of the wood was deafening. Sansa lowered her hood to take a look around. Sansa knew she must look a mess. Shae braided her hair back in the morning, but with the wind from the morning and her cloak rubbing against her locks for hours, she knew her hair must be falling out all over the place. She truly did not care.

She heard the commotion of the people around her before she saw anything and she knew a welcoming party had come for them. She turned her neck to look behind her. Sandor was closer than she thought and his eyes met hers right away. There was an all-new intensity that she had never seen there before. His eyes were steel, but not angry. She couldn’t read it. His lips were slightly parted, like he wanted to say something. Sansa felt the breath go out of her as she realized it was an exact mirror of the way she looked at him. And then she realized what he must have been thinking. _He’s afraid. Just as scared as me._

For a fleeting moment, she wondered how far they would get if they both turned around and ran off together. Too soon, there was the call to stop from the front of the line. Sansa watched Sandor as he closed his eyes. He sat straight in the saddle and ever-so-slightly shook his head. His eyes were still tightly shut when she made herself turn around. It’s like he can’t bear to watch. Sansa bit her lip to force the unbidden tears from leaving her eyes.

Sansa was close enough to the front now that she could see Robb. He turned around and found her easily enough. “Sansa!” His call echoed in the closeness of the dense forest. He waved her forward. She felt a chill run down her spine. There was no turning back now. _It’s too late._

Sansa put her heels into her horse. Those in front of her parted out of her way and she moved forward to meet her brother. But she didn’t go alone. She tried to focus on the sound of Stranger’s hooves, steadily hitting the ground, to slow the racing of her heart.

And she saw him. Ser Gawen Glover. Her handsome husband to be, a smile lighting up his beautiful face, illuminating the deep dimples in his cheeks. He looked handsome in his deep green cloak. He might have blended in with his surrounding had he Sansa made herself smile, and prayed it didn’t come off as much as a grimace as it felt.

She made her way to Robb’s side. She glanced at him and he was beaming. She leaned forward and looked at Roslin at his other side. She was smiling, but it didn’t reach her eyes. _What is that about?_ She was more excited about this trip than anyone. Sansa didn’t have time to think it through.

“Princess Sansa.” She whipped her head around to him. He bowed his head to her. “I welcome you to Deepwood Motte.”

Sansa bent her head. “Thank you, Ser Gawen.” She hated how her voice sounded. So small and far away. She didn’t trust herself to say anything else, even though she knew she should.

Gawen didn’t seem to notice her nerves for the moment, and for that, she was thankful. “I would be honored if I could accompany you on the remaining distance to the keep.” _Of course he would. Because he is perfect in every way possible._ Sansa nodded, accepting his courteous offer. _Perfect in every way but one._ And not being Sandor Clegane is nothing that the poor man in front of her could help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yea soooooo. Next one is going to be long. And like a shit ton of stuff is going to happen. Like a ton of stuff. Some is gonna make you sad, angry, happy and angry and more happy. You'll see. It will be fine.  
> I have a few things to say, bear with me. Since I'm blonde now, and I have green eyes, I'm a total Lannister and I'm pretty upset about it.  
> Another note: Went to Johnny Mac's (bar) last week. This place has awesome ASOIAF art, like house sigils and stuff and it's pretty awesome. My best friend's old college roommate was with us and guess what I learned. She is a rare bird who reads the books and has never watched the show. We bonded further of our mutual love of ASOIAF and when she asked, I recommended that she not watch the show. I told her that they put Sansa in Jeyne's role and that sealed it for her. It was nice though, to talk to a fellow book reader about how much we love this shit. There may have been tears.  
> Did I say I missed you guys? Because I did. Working 10 hours a day sucks pretty bad.  
> Oh and thank AdultOrphan and AngryTimeLadyClara for the biting of Mal.  
> Anyhooooo.... 
> 
> As a nameday gift to yours truly, (it's tomorrow - my birthday, I mean) LOOK WHO FINALLY DECIDED TO JOIN US!!!  
> Mr. FancyKid, you are a brave man.


	79. Chapter 79

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost two weeks. I hate myself for making you all wait so long. But I've got 14,176 words and I hope that is a big enough apology.

Sansa

She could hear the pounding on the door through the water that flooded into her ears. It had started as a light tapping, but got harder as the minutes ticked on. She heard the door open and quick light footsteps coming toward her. Hands plunged into the water and pulled her out before she could see who it was. But with the smack on the head she received, she knew it was Shae before she even blinked the water out of her eyes.

“I leave you for five minutes and you try to kill yourself again!”

Sansa sighed deeply, letting the air fill her lungs again. “I’m not trying to kill myself Shae.”

“What do you expect to happen when you don’t breathe?”

Sansa sighed and sunk under the water again, leaving her nose and the top of her head above. “It’s musty.” She watched her hair float along the surface as Shae continued. “This isn’t King’s Landing Sansa. He _isn’t_ Joffrey.” She paused. Letting the words sink in. “You’re in the North. So close to Winterfell and your family. With a kind and handsome man who is already half in love with you.”

Sansa combed her fingers through her hair, picking it up at the ends, examining the split and twisted tips of her strands. “I thought Joffrey was kind and handsome.” She muttered, already regretting it.

Shae’s face turned to a scowl. There was no jest in her eyes. No kindness. “Sansa. Don’t say that. You cannot seriously be comparing Ser Gawen to Joffrey.”

Sansa looked down into the water. Shae was right. She felt a blush rise to her cheeks, ashamed for suggesting something so ridiculous. But she didn’t say so. She knew Shae could see it on her face.

“Are you done?” Shae huffed and looked down at her.

Sansa nodded and gathered herself to stand, using Shae for balance. Mallory came in just then, turning both of their moods from bad to worse. Both girls helped her get ready for the dinner that was planned that evening.

 

Gawen had talked to her the whole way to the keep. He rode to her right, Robb was on her left. She found it difficult to take her eyes off of the Glover banners held up in the air. The silver mailed fist on scarlet was much too similar to a golden lion on a field of crimson for Sansa’s liking. When Sansa became silent, Robb would pipe in, effectively prompting her to speak up again. Gawen wanted to hear how the journey was for her. _Oh well I thought I lost a child that I never even carried and had the worst and most painful moonblood of my life. I passed out in the arms of the only man that I am sure I will ever love and can’t even bear to look at anymore. Oh, that’s him behind you by the way. Yes, the Hound, my sworn shield. The one that I contemplated running away with only moments ago._ But of course, she said nothing of the sort. She stuck to safe topics, such as the weather, the road conditions and the surrounding nature. He told her a little bit about the preparations that were made for the upcoming feast and she did her best to feign excitement. She supposed she did a good job of pretending, for both Gawen and Robb seemed none the wiser. _If they believe me, maybe someday I will start to believe it too. Maybe I can convince myself if I pretend for long enough._

Soon, the trees thinned out again and the road inclined ever so slightly as Deepwood Motte came into view. It was on a great tiered hill, behind a perimeter of old logs that would have once been the tallest trees that Sansa had ever seen. “Ironwood?”

Gawen nodded. “The strongest trees in the known world. They have protected Deepwood for centuries, never once falling to an outsider attack.”

Sansa wondered internally if that was only because there was nothing worth taking on that hill. _Now I’m just being rude._ Still, Sansa knew it was nothing comparing to the granite walls of Winterfell. She looked over to Gawen, who was smiling wildly, beaming up at his home. She could tell that he was proud of it and she suddenly felt ashamed for thinking so impolitely of it.

She cleared her throat and made herself speak up. “How are you adjusting to life as the heir to Deepwood?”

He turned to her. His eyes were soft. He looked as if he was touched that she would ask him such a question. Gawen’s uncle, Lord Galbart Glover died a short time ago. Robb chimed in, mentioning his strength and how much he relied on his support during the war. Gawen thanked him for his kindness. Sansa had learned that Galbart sustained an injury in the war that took its toll and eventually killed him. Gawen looked thoughtful before he spoke. “It’s strange really. I somehow always figured that I would be the heir. But I knew that meant my uncle would have no children. I had always hoped I would have some cousins. Erena and I would get bored of each other quite easily, I’m afraid.”

“Lady Erena, your sister?”

Gawen’s eyes lit up. “That’s right.”

“And how old is she again?”

“Almost sixteen.” He smiled quietly to himself. “I must warn you, she is very much looking forward to your visit.”

Sansa made herself smile. “I am eager to meet her.”

Gawen smiled again. A soft smile, an honest one. He didn’t flash his teeth like Ser Darol, but even the small upturn of his lips still caused the deep dimples to appear in his cheeks. He looked thoughtful as he continued their conversation. “I never expected to be the heir so quickly, just as I’m sure my father never expected to be the head of House Glover so soon.”

Sansa was quiet for a moment, trying to think of something to say. “I’m sure you will make a great lord someday.”

Gawen turned to her. “And you…a great lady.”

Sansa felt herself blush as she turned away. She heard a horse whiney loudly behind her. She didn’t let herself turn. She didn’t have to. _Stranger._ It almost sounded as if he was scoffing at the words Sansa and Gawen were sharing. Then she was sure that Sandor must have heard. There was a time in her life that what Gawen said would have made her heart soar. But now, it just sank to the pit of her stomach. She blushed in embarrassment. Maybe even shame. He looked _so happy_. _And here I am, being all but dragged by the hair to marry him._ Sansa used the free time she had in her mind to picture such an image as Gawen and Robb struck up a conversation. She wondered who would be the one to pull hardest. _Robb or mother?_

 

“Do you like fishing Princess?”

Sansa almost choked on her wine. “Fishing?” She sat on the dais in the great hall. Robb and Roslin had the seats of honor, Lord Robbett and Lady Sybelle, next to Robb. Sansa sat to Roslin’s left, Gawen on her other side. He barely got a word in though as his sister Erena sat to his left, and leaned across the table toward Sansa as if her brother were not even there. Erena was a slight young thing, not quite as small as Roslin though. She shared her brother’s features, deep blue eyes and fair brown hair. A pretty little thing. _Eager too._ The girl had asked her almost every question under the sun. She almost expected her to ask her when her last moonblood took place. _And now she is asking me about_ fishing _?_

“Erena, _please_.” Gawen groaned under his breath.

“It’s alright.” Sansa couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m afraid I’ve never been fishing, my lady.”

Erena gasped and smacked a dainty hand onto her brother’s arm. “Gawen! We must take her to the Bay of Ice!”

“We mustn’t _do_ anything, Erena. Princess Sansa is our guest. She may do whatever she pleases during her stay and she does not have to do anything she would rather not. That includes fishing with the likes of you.”

Erena ignored her brother’s words. “Gawen doesn’t like to go fishing. He would prefer to…” She crossed her arms and furrowed her brow. She lowered her voice to finish the sentence, effectively imitating her own interpretation of her brother. “…sulk in the godswood.”

Sansa found herself smiling. “Your brother told me as much at Winterfell. He said he preferred the quiet of the woods over the sea.” She surprised herself at how she remembered a detail so small, especially with what had happened later that night in the glass gardens. A flicker of… _something_ crossed Gawen’s face as he looked at her. She couldn’t exactly identify it, but she thought that he might be thinking the same thing. The moment faded quickly. Gawen sat back in his chair and brought his glass of wine to his lips. He breathed in through his teeth before he spoke. “I do not sulk Erena.” He turned to Sansa. For a moment she thought him truly cross with his more than eager sister, but with one look into his eyes she could see that they were just simply teasing each other. He took a sip of his wine before leaning in a little further, so his sister could not hear. “I am certain you can understand exactly _why_ I enjoy the quiet now.”

Erena leaned forward, reaching over to push her brother back in his chair. “Well, should you like to try fishing with me Princess, I would love to show you. I used to go with Uncle Galbart all the time.” She leaned in closer. “He always used to say that Gawen was just afraid of the water.”

Gawen scoffed and began to defend himself. The siblings were arguing again, teasing all the while, but for the moment they were preoccupied with one another. Sansa used the moment’s respite to look around the room. Glover and Stark banners were hung along the walls among the tapestries. Sansa was drawn to the colors of the Glover banner again. _I suppose the red is more_ scarlet _than crimson._ She was sure she could tell the difference if a Lannister flag hung right next to it, and shuddered at the thought.

She looked around the hall, suddenly not able to help herself. She’d avoided looking for nearly an hour. They hadn’t spoken a word to each other. Not upon arrival. Not as they got settled in their guest rooms. Not even when they walked together down to the great hall. She knew exactly where he was sitting and she let her eyes roam over every other area of the room before she finally let herself glance in his direction.

He was easy to pick out of the crowd, of course. _He is the only one who has to hunch over the table to reach his trencher so far below._ The scarred side of his face was toward her. He looked somber as he drank deeply from his horn of ale. _Doesn’t he always?_ Sansa sighed and leaned back into her chair, as much as she could while retaining the appropriate posture. She watched him for a moment, taking a sip of her wine. He put his ale down on the table and she saw his chest rise and fall as he breathed. Sansa put her glass on the table, but kept her hand on it. She watched his movements as he fidgeted on the bench, as he sniffed, as he stared at a seemingly interesting grain pattern in the table in front of him. She was truly staring at him now as he exchanged words with one of the men near him. All the while, never once glancing in her direction.

_Look at me._

“Sansa?”

She turned to her right. Roslin was looking at her, her eyes narrowed. She glanced down and Sansa’s eyes followed hers. She was gripping onto her glass so hard that the skin around her knuckles had turned white. She looked up at Roslin, who was now staring straight ahead at Sandor.

“Roslin.” Her goodsister didn’t respond. But Sansa watched in horror as her eyes widened at the same slow rate as her mouth opened. Sansa dared another glance to Sandor, who was oblivious to whatever situation was currently happening up on the dais. “Roslin.” She said again, whipping her head around to her. Roslin shook her head slowly to herself, but didn’t turn to Sansa. “ _Roslin_.” Sansa reached out and grabbed her arm. Roslin blinked and closed her mouth. She turned to Sansa as if waking out of a dream. She stared at her for several heartbeats. Sansa didn’t know what she was expecting or what she wanted her to say. All she was aware of was the lump caught in her suddenly dry throat.

Roslin licked her lips before she spoke. “You-“

“Princess!”

Sansa let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding and was forced to turn around. The lump in her throat had disappeared. But Sansa could feel Roslin’s eyes on the back of her head as she continued conversing with Erena and her brother. _Whatever that was, it certainly isn’t over._

 

“I have to say, it certainly is lovely being in the presence of other ladies.” Lady Sybelle said. “Our handmaidens are pleasant company, but there is something so special about sharing this space with the Queen in the North and the Princess of Winterfell.”

Roslin, ever the gracious diplomat, set her hand over Lady Sybelle’s. “Roslin and Sansa. Please.” She laughed lightly, glancing at Sansa. “Here, with friends, I’m sure we can let go of those silly titles.” Sansa smiled and nodded encouragingly. Being around people who did not know her well was getting a little bit exhausting. She never realized how frustrating it was to be called Princess, _all of the time_. Her dinner with Lady Erena last night taught her that much in the least. She never spoke to Roslin about it, but she wondered if she might have felt the same.

“Oh I appreciate the sentiment”, Lady Sybelle said, “…but I am sure the courtesies engrained in my head since I was a girl will not let me comply with the request.”

“Very well then.” Roslin smiled undeterred. _It was worth a shot._

Gawen’s mother, Lady Sybelle was a very kind woman. Quiet but refined. She almost reminded Sansa of Septa Mordane as she spoke. Gawen had told her that she was a very pious woman, more often to be found in the godswood then any other place in the keep.

The women sat together in the bower above the family rooms. Erena told her that is where the women folk usually retired to in the evening. Sansa thought back to just a few nights ago, where she had been retiring to in the evenings. She felt a furious blush rise to her cheeks.

“What a beautiful pattern, your grace.”

Lady Sybelle’s words broke Sansa out of her reverie. She stretched her neck over to look at Roslin’s perfect embroidery. She couldn’t remember the last time she took up such a pointless task. Lately, her free time was spent doing things no lady ever should. _But that is done._ She looked back at her own sorry attempt at needlework. She had started to stitch an outline of a heart tree, it being the only thing she could think of when she started. She tilted her head to examine it, and couldn’t even make out what she originally had planned. _Now I know how Arya always felt._ She sighed and put the needlework down on her lap. Roslin still hadn’t spoken to her about whatever she had tried to last night, and Sansa was more than happy to put off that conversation for as long as she could.

She watched Erena for a while, sitting prettily with crossed ankles and a straight back, smiling into her embroidery. Even from where she sat, Sansa could see that her lines were even and neat. She was the perfect little lady. Sansa couldn’t help but compare her to Arya, them being at an age with one another now. A thought unbidden entered Sansa’s mind and it made her feel ill just to hear the words in her head. _You will have the perfect little lady sister that you had always wanted._

Just then Erena looked up. “Princess Sansa, your grace. I was wondering if you would like to join us on an excursion to the Bay of Ice on the morrow? I know you only just arrived, but it is only a few hours away and it truly is beautiful.”

Sansa spoke before Roslin had a chance. “I would like that very much.”

Roslin sighed. “I’m afraid I can’t leave the children for very long in the day. But I’m sure you will have a lovely time.”

Sansa was glad that there was not another mention of fishing, but she was eager to see the sea. Besides the Green Fork at the Twins, the last great body of water Sansa had seen was the Blackwater Bay. And Sansa had not been reluctant to see that cesspool disappear behind her. Spending a day by the Bay of Ice would be a pleasant distraction, she was sure.

That night at their evening meal, Sansa found herself staring at Sandor again. They ate at a more modest table now, but still above the salt. It seemed as though this was how the family ate every evening, not on the dais unless there was a special occasion. Sansa was glad at the thought, uncomfortable up there anyway, as if on display for everyone to look at. The only one who she wanted to look at her still refrained from doing so. It was more difficult to find him as they sat at the same level at different tables, but she did and she couldn’t help but stare again. They still had yet to speak and the way he seemed to be acting toward her, it seemed as though her never would.

_Look at me._

She willed it in her mind again, staring at him with such an intensity that she didn’t even realize Roslin calling her name.

In all that time, he still hadn’t turned in her direction.

“Sansa.” Roslin’s voice was soft.

She should have known better than to stare again. Reluctantly, she turned to Roslin. Her forehead was crinkled in the middle as she reached for Sansa’s hand.

“What is going on with you, Sansa?” Her voice was quiet, neither Robb or Gawen sitting across from them would have been able to hear. She was pleading with her she realized, her face a mask of concern.

Sansa shook her head, her voice coming out quieter than she had expected. “I don’t rightly know anymore.”

“ _Sansa_.” Roslin’s grip tightening almost painfully on Sansa’s fingers. Roslin wasn’t looking in her eyes though. She was looking at her neck. When Sansa turned her head, her hair had fallen away from her neck where Shae had been purposely placing it every day to cover her yellowing marks Sandor had made there on their last night together. Roslin’s other hand ghosted up to her neck and moved her hair to cover it again. Sansa didn’t know whose eyes would have been wider. A sudden panic rose in Sansa’s throat.

“Not here. Please.” She begged, shaking her head. “Not now.” Her eyes flashed toward Gawen, deep in conversation with Robb. Roslin loosened her grip on Sansa, blinked and nodded her head.

“I must ask, Sansa, what have you said to make my wife so engrossed in your quiet conversation?”

Sansa froze and was suddenly unable to meet her brother’s eyes. Roslin let go of her and turned easily to her husband. Sansa didn’t even hear what she said, only the laughter that came after and she used her humor and grace to effectively distract Gawen and Robb from the intensity of the moment she had just shared with Sansa. In that moment, Sansa knew that no matter what will be said in their upcoming conversation, she could trust her goodsister not to tell her husband. Still, she wasn’t ready to talk about it. She excused herself early to avoid Roslin’s questions. _At least for another night._

 

Sansa and Gawen walked out to the yard together in the early morning. Robb and Roslin were both staying behind so it was only a small group of eight that were traveling with them. They talked about trivial things as their horses were brought to them. Gawen was distracted, speaking of some childhood trip to the shore. Sansa fingered the pommel of her chestnut’s saddle, not wanting to interrupt his words with her awkward fumbling onto her horse. She didn’t have to wait long though. The surprised look on Gawen’s face as his story was interrupted should have warned her of his approach. The strength of familiar hands wrapped around her waist and lifted her up onto her horse. She shouldn’t have been as shocked as she was, a small gasp escaping her lips. But he hadn’t helped her up onto her horse since they left Winterfell. She didn’t turn around like last time to watch him walk away and mount Stranger, her sides still tingling from the imprint of his touch. Instead she watched Gawen, his brow furrowed briefly as he kept his eyes on Sandor. He blinked turned and mounted his own horse.

Sansa cleared her throat. “You were saying, Ser?”

 

It only took about two hours to make it to the shore of the Bay of Ice and Sansa was glad of her fur-lined cloak and gloves when they got there. The wind was sharp and bitter on her face, but it felt good to be in the fresh and open air after the deep quiet forest. The shoreline was pebbled and the sea wasn’t as rough as she would have expected it to be. She and Gawen were talking down by the water, her hand on his arm, careful not to get so close as to touch the water. As beautiful as it was in winter, she could only imagine how much she would enjoy it in the middle of summer.

“Princess, that offer still stands should you want to join me!”

Erena walked past her then, smiling over her shoulder. A fishing rod in one hand, a bucket in the other as she headed toward a row of sturdy boulders stretched out into the sea.

“Shouldn’t someone accompany her?”

Gawen waved his hand at his sister. “She’s been doing this since she could walk.”

Sansa watched as Erena climbed up onto the rocks with sure footing. Once she was at the top of the highest boulder she strode easily across them toward the end of the row, jutting straight out into the sea. _She’s more like Arya than I thought._

Gawen broke her thought pointing out to the water in front of her. “So right in that direction is Bear Island.” He squinted and moved his arm. “And when the ironborn come tearing up the shore from the south, it is from that direction.” Sansa smiled, remembering his joke at Winterfell. She thought it funny then, for she had been deep in her cups and hadn’t thought of it as more than a joke. She refrained from saying it, but it couldn’t stop her from thinking on it. _You mean, that is from where Theon came when he took Winterfell and made my brothers flee._ Gawen seemed to notice her silence, so he cleared his throat. “Princess, I’ve been meaning to ask you.” He stopped her then and turned, releasing her hand from his arm. He turned his head and looked back to the tree line. Sansa followed his gaze and saw that he looked at Sandor, who was standing by Stranger, facing in their direction, but looking out over the water.

“What is it?” She asked, her heart in her throat.

Gawen turned back around and sighed. “You may think this untoward, and perhaps it is, but, I just do not fully understand your… _relationship_ with the Hound.”

Sansa’s head snapped up “You mean Sandor?”

She could hear the swallow he forced down his throat. “Of course.”

Sansa waited, staring at him. _If you have something to say, by all means_ say it.

“Perhaps… perhaps I don’t understand why the former Lannister… guard would change sides so quickly.”

“Yes, something my brothers and my mother have already pointed out, thank you very much.” Gawen’s eyes widened quickly before he blinked. It looked like he had just been slapped. _Seven hells._ Sansa sighed. “Sorry. That was rude of me.”

“No, it was rude of _me_. I shouldn’t pry like that. I am sorry.”

Sansa shook her head and spoke slowly. “No. I don’t think it’s wrong to be… curious.”

Sansa couldn’t think of a conversation she would like to have less with her betrothed. She sighed again, turning away from Sandor and taking Gawen’s arm again, continuing their walk, figuring now was a no worse time than ever.

“Sandor Clegane is a very… difficult man.” She took a breath running the words over in her head. “He only speaks when he must. He is coarse and rough in everything he does. But he is the most honest person I have ever met.” She paused again. “The best way that I can explain it…” She trailed off, searching for the words. Gawen glanced at her then, but she kept her eyes on the ground. “He was one of my very few protectors in the viper’s nest that was King’s Landing. I know now, that he was the only one-“ A lump in her throat cut off her words. She had to cough to clear it before speaking again. “The only one who had _my_ best interest at heart with no… thought of how his protecting me could better himself.” She thought of Tyrion. Margaery. Her voice became quiet as she continued. “He’s saved my life, more times that I would like to remember, even before he swore himself to me. More times than I’m sure he has shared with me.” She looked over her shoulder to where he was, following behind them at some distance, still looking out over the sea. _I love him. I love him._ Sansa blinked back the tears that were quickly forming behind her eyes. Gawen looked thoughtful, nodding when she had finished.

“Then I am glad he is with you then. To bring you safely… home.”

Sansa heard what he didn’t say. _To bring you safely to me._

They walked in silence for a while. But Sansa felt that it was a somewhat comfortable silence. She didn’t feel pressured to speak or to make conversation and she felt that Gawen must have been thinking the same. She was content just to listen to the call of the gulls circling over their heads, the sounds of the waves crashing the shore, the rustling of pebbles against each other under the heavy feet of her sworn shield, walking at a safe distance behind her.

 

The ride back was uneventful, after Sandor helped her back up on her horse, save for Erena’s chattering about all of the fish she had caught. When they got to Deepwood, they rode through the village.

“Ser Gawen!”

“Lady Erena!”

“Princess Sansa!”

The townspeople bowed their heads or curtsied as they passed. Gawen and Erena waved to them, bowing their heads in turn, wishing them good day. Sansa watched briefly. _They are loved here, that much is certain._ Sansa smiled at the thought before mimicking them, waving to the people who would soon be hers.

To Sansa’s dismay, Roslin was waiting for her when they got to the stables. She dismounted easily enough on her own and walked toward her. “What’s wrong?” She asked of her goodsister.

“Nothing at all. I just need your help with something, if you wouldn’t mind.” She held her hand out for Sansa to take. _Oh buggering hells._ She took her hand and said her thanks to Gawen and Erena for taking her on the trip. Sandor followed behind the two girls into the keep, through the hall, into the guest chambers and outside the door to Roslin and Robb’s rooms. The whole way, Sansa’s stomach was in knots. She thought of every possibility of how this conversation was going to go. Her first thought was to deny everything. But then, she had seen the mark on her neck. Then she thought she would lie through her teeth, saying it only happened the one time. They had just kissed and she was just confused and that was why she was staring at him. _Yes. That’s it. She’ll be sure to believe me._

That plan, however, dissipated into this air as Roslin shut the door behind her and Sansa saw what was awaiting her in the room.

“ _Shae_.”

She was holding Lyanna, a sheepish look on her face. “Sansa.”

“What are you doing here?” She started to get overheated, her stomach turning over on itself in truth now. She yanked at the gloves she still wore and fumbled at the clasp on her cloak.

“Her grace asked me here.”

Sansa didn’t feel any better even without her cloak. The heat of her nerves still clutched around her throat. She looked at Roslin. “Why?” She finally choked out.

Roslin looked eerily calm. “Sansa please. Have a seat.” Sansa made her feet move to do as she was bid, choosing the seat furthest from the fire blazing in the hearth. “Shae and I are merely concerned for you.” Roslin continued, Ned in her arms now as she and Shae sat around her. Sansa couldn’t help but laugh. They both held a baby, almost like a shield, as if that could protect them from her wrath over being trapped here.

“Why?” She asked again.

It was Shae that spoke. “She already knew Sansa. There was nothing I could do to deny it.”

“Deny what!” She snapped.

Roslin looked at her then and Sansa found that she was unable to look away from her eyes. “Your relationship with Sandor.”

Sansa felt the breath go out of her. She slumped into the chair and found herself looking at Shae. “I trusted you.” Shae at least had the decency to look ashamed, eyes downcast into her lap.

“Don’t be cross with Shae.” Roslin spoke. “She told me nothing. I just guessed, correctly I suppose. After seeing that bruise on your neck, the way you stared at him…” Sansa closed her eyes tightly, feeling an embarrassing heat rising to her cheeks. “And then I thought back. To the way you wouldn’t let go of him even when you passed out. And further back. How tired you’ve been. And then when you asked about, about lying with a man.” Sansa’s eyes snapped open as Roslin lowered her voice. “I thought you were just nervous about Gawen. But now of course, it all makes sense.”

Sansa waited. “If there is a point you would like to make Roslin, please do so before I burst into flames.”

Roslin looked at her then, intently. “You love Sandor Clegane. You are in love with him, and you’ve given yourself to him.”

Sansa remained unmoved. Her face felt like it was aflame. She made herself shrug. “What of it?”

Roslin’s eyes widened. “ _What of it_?” She scoffed at her. “Sansa. This changes everything. Does it not?”

“Does it? Please, Roslin. Do tell me, _how_?” For a moment Roslin looked at a loss for words. There was a small piece of Sansa that felt guilty for jumping down her throat, but she couldn’t think on it now. Not just yet.

“Its just… if you love Sandor then-“

“Then what? Does my love for him change this situation? Does it change the fact that he is my sworn shield? That he sees me as nothing more than a play thing? Does it change that I am betrothed to another? Or that I am the Princess of Winterfell? That I must do what is right, what is best for my family, for _our_ house… _your kingdom_?”

Roslin’s mouth was agape. But Sansa remained unmoved. After a moment of the most uncomfortable silence of her life, Roslin sighed. “No.” She swallowed. “No I suppose it doesn’t.”

Sansa nodded furiously. She knew everything she said was true. But hearing it confirmed aloud from another felt like a dagger to the gut. “You’re quite right.”

Roslin licked her lips and fumbled with the tie on Ned’s little tunic. “If you still planning on marrying Gawen-“

Sansa cut her off again. _“If?”_

Roslin closed her eyes briefly, but was otherwise undeterred. “Then would you not think it wise to remove yourself from him? Sandor I mean.”

“What are you saying?”

Roslin shrugged. “I just…it may be difficult for you to think of but-“

“What do you know about how difficult this is for me?” Sansa felt a panicked hysteria rising in her chest. She stood and began to pace the room, holding her hand in a fist over her heart. “For weeks, this has been pressing on me. Only me. That fact that I am in love with one man that I know I can never have, the fact that I am promised to another absolutely _perfect_ man. A man who wants nothing but to be happy with me in his home. A man who is gracious, kind and handsome. And all I can think about is how his voice is too sweet. His words are too kind. His face too… smooth.” She let out a mirthless laugh. She shook her head and tried to calm her breathing. It didn’t work. “I keep trying to convince myself that there must be something wrong with him. But there is nothing wrong. The only thing that is wrong with Gawen is that he is not Sandor.” Sansa wiped the tears from her cheeks, and let in a shuddering breath. Her jaw felt weak as it shook. She was beginning to feel lightheaded. She sat down with a huff back in the chair. “I know I can never have him. I know I must do my duty for my family.” She looked up to Roslin, whose face looked torn, but she nodded in agreement. “But I also know… that I cannot bear to have him taken from me.” She leaned forward and grasped at Roslin’s hand. “Roslin. You must promise me. You cannot tell _anyone_. Especially Robb. I know I will never lie with him again, but please. I can’t bear to have him leave me.” Sansa could scarcely believe the words that were falling from her mouth. She didn’t know what scared her more, the fact that she had never thought of it until now or the realization of how horribly true it was.

Roslin turned her hand over, gripping Sansa’s right back. Slowly, she began to nod. Sansa let out another sob this time, in relief. “I won’t tell anyone.” Roslin finally agreed. “Especially Robb.”

“Thank you. _Thank you_.”

She glanced at Shae, who was wiping under her eye with the heel of her hand.

Roslin was quiet when she spoke again. “But Sansa. You were wrong about one thing. There’s something you don’t-“

She was interrupted by the door opening and her brother and king entering. Sansa turned her head away from him, wiping furiously at her tears.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I wondered what Clegane was doing outside the door.”

 _No._ Sansa had completely forgotten he was there. Her stomach dropped to her feet. _Good gods please tell me he didn’t hear._

“Yes, my love, if you wouldn’t mind waiting-“ Roslin started. But Sansa cut her off.

“No, I’m just leaving.” She stood and curtsied to Roslin. “Thank you.” Sansa pushed past her bewildered looking brother. She was out the door and halfway to her room even before she heard Sandor move to catch up with her. He wasn’t yet halfway down the hall by the time she locked the door behind her.

 

They sat in the same positions for the evening meal that night. Sansa hoped that the redness of her eyes did not give her away, and she was glad when no one made mention of it. Erena had caught enough fish to feed them at the high table. She looked immensely proud so Sansa forced herself to choke it down even though eating the delicious catch was the last thing she wanted to do.

Erena dominated most of the conversation, she was pleased to see. Aside from a spare comment here and there, Sansa was saved by the pointed questions that Roslin had for both Erena and Gawen about the trip.

She tried not to for some time, but as the dinner wore on and her cup was refilled more than once, Sansa found herself staring at Sandor again. His back was to her. She watched his shoulders rise and fall as he breathed. Watched him raise his horn of ale to his lips almost as often as she brought her wine glass to hers. Sansa gritted her teeth so hard she was sure they were going to crumble into her mouth. _Look at me._

For a moment, she almost thought she said the words out loud. Sandor turned his head to the left. She could see that he was looking from the corner of his eye. The last time she had looked him in the eye was days ago now. Her heart was hammering in her chest. Can he see me?

“…isn’t that right Sansa?” It was Roslin. She was looking at Sansa, her eyes bright and her smile wide. She had no idea what they were talking about, but she could tell that Roslin was only helping her back into the conversation.

“Yes. Of course.” Sansa made herself smile and turn back to her own table. After a moment, she felt Roslin’s small hand take her own under the table. Sansa turned to her. With the way Roslin kept the conversation going, not even glancing at Sansa as she watched her, Sansa knew that anyone above the table would have noticed the gesture of absolute support that she held onto like her life depended on it.

 

“Princess Sansa.” Gawen found her early in the morning as she broke her fast with Roslin and Erena. Sansa’s eyes still felt swollen from the crying she had done and the lack of sleep she afforded herself. Sleeping alone and in an unfamiliar place brought back Sansa’s nightmares with a fierce vengeance, she was nearly afraid to close her eyes at all.

Gawen sat across from her then, next to his sister. “I was hoping you might like to accompany me to the godswood.” The keep was awhirl with activity as everyone prepared for the feast that evening. More guests were arriving since before she woke up and there would be even more up until the minute the event started.

“I would love to.” What she really wanted to do was retire to her room until she had to come back down for the feast. But she supposed if she couldn’t do that, then a walk to the godswood would be good enough to get out of the way for the morning. She saw Mallory from across the hall and asked her to retrieve her cloak and gloves from her room. Gawen joined them as they finished their meal.

When Mallory finally came back, she helped her with her cloak and Sansa slipped on her gloves. She looked around and didn’t see Sandor anywhere. _Maybe its for the better._ Gawen was already dressed for the cold so she took his arm. By the time they were at the door, Sansa heard the familiar heavy footsteps fall in time behind her.

 

“I’m afraid its not quite as large as Winterfell’s godswood, but I still love it all the same.”

Sansa could tell they were approaching the heart tree as the scattering of red leaves appeared on the needle covered ground. When the heart tree came into view, she was surprised by the face carved into the bark. Its eyes were closed in a peaceful looking expression, the mouth closed, but its corners turned up in a permanent red smile.

“It is beautiful.” She smiled at him as they stopped to admire it.

“My father had it put out here for my mother.” He said of the stone bench that stood facing the heart tree. “She spends more time here than any of us.” Where her hand lay over his arm, she could feel his muscles tightening even through all of the layers of fabric between them. He let go of her arm then and turned around.

“Clegane.”

Sansa’s eyes widened and she whipped her head around. Sandor was standing several paces away but came forward as he was beckoned. “Ser.”

“Would you mind terribly allowing me a moment alone with your charge?”

 _What?_ For the thousandth time on the trip, Sansa’s heart leapt up into her throat. Sansa looked into Sandor’s eyes for the first time in what felt like forever. It looked like doing what Gawen asked was just about the very last thing he wanted to do. He looked at her, she realized, waiting for permission. She swallowed and gave him a curt nod.

Sansa could hear his teeth clench together before he nodded and turned to leave. Sansa didn’t look away until she could no longer hear the crunch of frozen leaves under his feet.

“Here, Princess-“

“Please.” She snapped, her hand gripping his arm. She blinked and softened her grasp. “ _Please_. Call me Sansa.”

Gawen’s eyes went quickly from shocked to pleased. He smiled softly and his eyes glistened when he said her name. “ _Sansa_.”

This was the first time they were ever alone. Sansa was sure he could feel her heartbeat through her fingers on her arm. The thought made her let go. He motioned for her to sit on the bench, so she did, followed shortly by him. They were both quiet for several moments. Sansa wondered if he was praying, or rather, if he thought she was. If he sent Sandor away, he must want to say something. So she waited, knowing she wouldn’t be the first to speak.

When he did finally

“Sansa.” She made herself turn to him. He reached for her gloved hand in her lap and she gave it to him. They both looked down as he held her hand and then rested them on the stone bench in between them.

“I realized… that we never really spoke on our… arrangement.” She knew he was looking at her, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes, so she kept them on their hands still clasped together. “I just… didn’t want to move forward until we talked about it.”

Her voice was small, still half in her throat when she finally made herself look up at him and his beautiful face. “What would you like to speak about Ser?”

He squeezed her fingers lightly. “Gawen. Please.”

She nodded and made herself smile, though it felt more like a grimace. “Gawen.” She swallowed. “What would you like to talk about?”

“Well…” His words came out slowly, calculated. But he never took his eyes off of hers. “I am sure that you might be able to tell, but I am very happy about our betrothal.” He cast his eyes down to their hands, a small smile playing at his lips. When he looked up again, his eyes were soft, but serious. “I wanted to be sure, that it is not completely one sided. That this…” He squeezed her fingers lightly again. “…was something you wanted.” _He is making it seem like I have a choice_ , she thought somewhat scornfully. And then she realized, _he really believes that I have one. He has no idea the pressure I am under. He just wants me to want him as much as he wants me_. It was almost innocent of him. _And so horribly sad._ “What do you think Sansa?” He pressed on. “Do you think you could be happy here? With me?”

His eyes searched hers and she didn’t have the heart to turn away, as much as she wanted to. “Yes.” She heard herself saying. “Yes. Gawen. I’m confident that you and I will have a… happy marriage.”

His eyes widened and he took a deep breath. “You’re sure?”

She found herself nodding. “I am sure.” _Eventually_ , she thought. _Someday, I’m sure, I won’t feel as bitter about it as I do now._ The look of relief that washed over Gawen’s face nearly broke he heart. _Gods, forgive me. I don’t deserve him._

Gawen blinked and moved his hand so that he rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. He was quiet again for a moment, seeming lie he was warring himself over something. When he looked up, she shouldn’t have been surprised as she was. “May I kiss you?”

 _Is there a way that I could deny him?_ She knew the answer before she even asked herself the question. She barely heard her own voice when she finally answered him. “You may.”

It was a chaste kiss, as his lips touched hers. It was warm and dry. It did not ignite a flutter of nervous excitement in her belly. It did not make her heart beat faster. It did not make her feel anything. When he pulled away, Sansa didn’t know if she was more relieved or more worried.

She’d never seen anyone look as happy as Gawen did just then. When she smiled back at him, it was one of pity, though she wasn’t sure who she felt worse for; Gawen or herself.

“What’s that?” Her ears pricked back to a clatter of noise coming from the way they entered.

“The rest of our guests, I would assume.” Gawen stood and held out his hand for her. Sansa took it and he placed it nicely in the crook of his arm. “Come.”

They walked out together, the noise from the yard becoming louder as they approached the gate. Sandor stood at the gate, his broad back to them, blocking their exit.

“Clegane. Is something wrong?” Gawen tried to peek around him. Sandor turned to them then. His eyes were wide and his nostrils flared. He had his hand on the hilt of his sword. Beyond him she could finally see the flowing pink banner of House Bolton.

“Boltons.” Sansa and Sandor said it at the same time. She looked up at him, and he down at her. Their eyes locked again, only briefly before he turned away.

“Yes.” Gawen said slowly. “A last minute invite.” Sansa looked at him. It seemed that he didn’t look very happy about it either.

“Dog! I knew I smelled charred flesh somewhere!”

Sansa saw that Sandor didn’t want to turn, but they all did to answer the call that came from outside of the gate. Sandor and Gawen stepped out together in front of Sansa.

“Ser Gawen. You lucky bastard. Tell me, where is your beautiful bride to be?”

Gawen turned back to her, a forced smile on his face, but she still remained hidden behind Sandor in front of her, an immovable wall of solid muscle and bone. Gawen reached his hand out for her, and she knew she couldn’t hide forever. She took his hand and stepped forward, getting in line between him and Sandor.

Ramsay Bolton stood there, his pale icy eyes already roving over her body before he finally spoke. “Princess.” He bent his head toward her. “Looking _radiant_ as ever.”

She made herself smile and curtsey for him. “My lord.”

“Hmmm. I have to say, I don’t know what you see in this one Princess.” He smacked his hand on Gawen’s shoulder and laughed out loud. A horribly unpleasant sound.

 _Gods. Robb tried to set me up with him at one point._ She shivered at the thought, but covered it up with a forced laugh. “Pardon my lord, but I must be getting on now to prepare myself for the feast.” She bent her head toward him. “Gawen would you be so kind to escort me to the guest chambers?”

“Of course.” He put her hand on his arm again and they strode off together. She waited to hear Sandor behind them, but when she turned, he wasn’t there.

“I must apologize, Sansa.” Gawen muttered to her.

“For what?”

He shook his head. “You shouldn’t have to put up with Ramsay’s jeers and looks. I had half a mind to knock his filthy teeth in for looking at you like that.”

“No, please. That is unnecessary.”

He shook his head and looked down at her. “Still… I do not trust that man.”

Sansa was surprised he would admit such things to her already. But she was pleased to hear it nonetheless. The one good thing about living in Deepwood, _I’ll be further away from the godsdamned Dreadfort._

 

“ _Marvelous_ Princess. Simply _beautiful_.”

She hated the feeling of being vain, but Sansa had to agree with Mallory. She certainly did look lovely. Sansa looked in the mirror and spun in her dress. It was a simple thing, wrapping tightly around her waist, but finely made of deep green velvet and delicate golden embroidery.

“Hmm.”

“What is it?” Shae asked. Sansa shook her head. “You made my hair like this for the first ball Robb held in King’s Landing.” With the marks Sandor had left all but yellowed away, Shae saw fit to pin her hair off her neck. It was in a thick braid, going across her scalp almost as if it was a crown of her own.

“Ah. So I did.” She smiled at her, through the mirror. “Are you ready then?”

 _No._ But she nodded.

Mallory opened the door and Sandor was there. She didn’t know what she was expecting. Maybe his eyes to widen at the sight of her as they used to when she got all dressed up. Maybe for them to become dark and hooded with desire, the way he would look at her when they were alone together. But there was nothing there. His eyes were blank as he looked at her, his mouth a straight line. He said nothing to her. _Like he is truly made of stone._ Sansa blinked and turned away from him down the hall before her eyes could betray her thoughts.

She met Roslin and Robb at the entrance of the guest chambers. They exchanged their courtesies and headed for the great hall together. The people that were already gathered parted for them as they walked toward the dais.

Sansa finally got the reaction she was looking for, but not from Sandor. “Sansa.” Gawen said quietly. “You look…” His mouth remained open as he shook his head, searching for the words. Sansa couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her lips.

Erena peeked around her brother. “I think what he means to say is, _beautiful, divine, stunning_.” She laughed. “Any or all of those would do Gawen, I’m sure.”

Sansa shook her head. “My lady, you certainly look lovely yourself. Your gown is superb.” It almost reminded Sansa of something Myrcella would have worn, a pretty pink thing with a flowing skirt. The color complemented her skin tone perfectly.

“Oh this thing?” Erena lifted a hand to her chest and with the other, brought the skirt out in front of her.

“Erena, don’t act like you haven’t been obsessing over _every stitch_ of that gown for the last month.” Gawen poked his sister in her side, making her yelp and dart away. Sansa laughed with them. She felt eyes on her though. When she turned, it was her own brother, smiling down at her.

They found their places on the dais. Sansa hadn’t seen where Sandor disappeared to when they entered, and she was glad of it. _Maybe I might actually enjoy myself if I don’t know where he is._

Lord Robbett said a few words, welcoming the honored guests. “…especially, His grace, King Robb Stark. Queen Roslin. And of course the Princess Sansa, whom in just a few weeks from now, I will be calling daughter.”

The entire hall erupted. Sansa looked around at the people, cheering, cups and horns raised in the air. Someone started slamming their horn onto the table and soon others joined in. Before long all of the guests were beating the table, stomping their feet and chanting for Robb to speak. When Robb finally stood, the noise was so overwhelming, Sansa had to fight the urge to cover her ears with her hands. He raised his hand to quiet them, but it took more than a minute for that to work.

“Thank you Lord Robbett.” Robb finally was able to say. “Thank you all!” He called out to the crowd. “We have enjoyed our stay here at Deepwood immensely. I am sorry to be leaving in just a few days. But I know that Roslin and I will be back often, visiting our sister in her new home.” The crowd cheered and clapped again and Sansa tried to ignore the furious blush that she could feel in her neck and ears. “Now please, enough of the formalities. Let us eat!”

“The King in the North!” Lord Robbett shouted clear over the din. The sentiment was returned over a hundred-fold in the booming voices that filled the hall.

Sansa found that her glass was filled only halfway. She downed the sweet liquid in just a few gulps, all at once. By the third course, Sansa lost count of how many times she had done just that.

She noticed that both Gawen and Roslin were looking at her every time she had her glass filled, but she really didn’t care. She almost wanted to dare one of them to stop her. _It’s the only way Tyrion was able to deal with being married to me, perhaps it will work the same for me then._

She was certainly more talkative than she had any right to be in her condition. Gawen seemed wary at first, but after he had a few cups of his own, the two of them were laughing like children.

“Try it!”

Gawen scrunched up his nose and shook his head at her. “You can’t make me.”

“I can and I will.” Sansa held a forkful of her own lemon cake in his face. “Erena! Hold him down!” His sister was more than happy to do as Sansa bid. He could have fought her off easily enough as she pinned down one of his ams, but he seemed to be enjoying the attention Sansa was giving him, the feel of her own hand on his shoulder.

Somehow, she managed to sneak the fork into his mouth. She let him go and dropped the fork on her plate with a clatter. It would have been loud had the whole hall not been as deep in their cups. She watched with dismay as Gawen chewed and swallowed like he was eating acorn paste.

Sansa shook her head. “I’m amazed. It would seem that you do have flaw after all, Ser.”

Gawen lifted his glass to his lip, taking a deep sip to clear the taste from his mouth. He hissed and put his cup back down to be refilled. “Just the one?”

“Mhmm.” Sansa nodded. She lifted the very last morsel of her delicious lemon cake onto her fork. “What is _wrong_ with you? Who doesn’t like lemons!” She put the fork in her mouth and licked it clean. She let it drop to her plate again before she noticed the look on Gawen’s face. He was more serious than she had ever seen him. She watched him as his eyes flickered between hers, the fork, and her mouth.

 _Oh._ She realized with a small gasp. She’d just used Gawen’s fork. The one that had just been in his mouth. _And I licked it clean._

Sansa was saved from whatever he must have been thinking by the call for music to begin. She looked away toward the crowd and the very first thing her eyes landed on was Sandor. He was all the way across the hall, but he was standing ramrod straight and staring right at her.

_He’d seen._

His eyes were as wide and as hard as she’d ever seen them. The burned corner of his mouth twitching, his nostrils flared. _This man is not Sandor Clegane. Not the one I love._

_This is the Hound._

The rage that seemed to boil inside of him was clearly visible. Palpable even. She couldn’t remember the last time she saw him like this. The horrible rage, she realized, had been replaced by something else. Only temporarily it would seem. What it was, she didn’t know. _Was it just his desire for me that turned him into the man I fell in love with?_

She had been hoping he would look at her for days now, but now she regretted that. She felt like she shrunk under his gaze. It took her a moment to realize that she wasn’t breathing. Yet she couldn’t look away. Not until Gawen grabbed her hand and lifted her up to her feet. She made herself blink and breathe again.

Once she was on her feet, she stumbled and would have lost her balance had Gawen’s grip on her shoulders not stopped her.

His eyes were searching hers again, his brow furrowed. “Sansa. Look at me. Are you alright?”

She took a deep breath and prayed in her mind that he didn’t notice how it shook. “Just a bit woozy.” She made herself smile.

“Do you feel well enough to dance?”

Sansa found herself nodding earnestly before he even finished his question. “Of course.”

Robb and Roslin and Gawen’s parents had already started dancing. Sansa hadn’t even noticed that the tables had been pushed aside, let alone the music had begun. Gawen swept Sansa up so quickly in the middle of the floor that she didn’t even have time to think over what just happened. Soon it seemed as though the entire hall followed their lead and flooded the floor.

As the music continued, Sansa was passed around like a doll between Gawen, Robb, Lord Robbett and back to Gawen again. The song barely ended before she could make an excuse for herself, complaining of the heat. With such a crowded dancefloor, filled with overheated, wine and ale filled bodies, it wasn’t really a lie, especially in her thick velvet dress. Sansa made her way to the nearest table away from the crowd. The air was still heavy and warm, but she could breathe better, if only slightly. She didn’t look up or around the room. She knew he was watching her. She knew it like she knew her hair was red. She found a flagon of wine easily enough. There was a half empty cup next to it. Not even hers. She dumped it out on the floor before filling it anew and downing it, twice, before someone grabbed her arm.

“Shae!”

“Sansa. Are you alright?”

“Of course! I’m so glad you’re here. Dance with me!”

“I would be delighted.”

Only it wasn’t Shae who answered. Somehow Shae’s hand on her arm had been replaced by Ramsay Bolton’s. His other hand, unnaturally cold in the heat of the room, snaked around her waist as he pulled her back onto the dance floor.

He held her much too close and Sansa found herself pulling away as he spun her around. “You’ve been avoiding me Princess.”

“I’ve done nothing of the sort, my lord.”

He smelled sickly sweet and it made a chill go up her spine. She couldn’t even look at him, he made her skin crawl so.

“Oh but you have. First, you have _your dog_ remove me from your escort North.”

 _What?_ “I do not know what you mean, I assure you.” Sansa looked over his shoulder trying to find someone to steal her away, but there was no one she knew in sight.

Ramsay went on as if she hadn’t even spoken. “And today, skirting away with your _betrothed_ before I even get a chance to _look_ at you.” His arms around her were unrelenting so she was leaning away as best she could. But that only left the skin of her neck open to him. She watched as his eyes roved down the white of her neck before she snapped it up again.

“Please, my lord, I feel unwell.”

His wormy lips were much too close when he smiled at her. Much too familiar. “Well, we can’t have that can we?” He slowed and edged her away from the floor. “You must look and feel your best for your future husband.” He shook his head as they stopped moving, but Sansa’s head still spun. “Although I’m afraid I cannot see the appeal. This pile of logs over the Dreadfort.” He shook his head again, _tsking_ all the while.

Sansa knew she should have some witty retort, something about his being a bastard, Gawen being trueborn, but she held her drunk tongue, knowing all that would have come out would have been – _you’re a bastard._

“Sansa.”

Gawen found them then and Sansa was shocked by the overwhelming feeling of relief that washed over her when she saw him. “Is everything alright?”

“Quite alright, friend. It just seems that your lady here may have has a bit too much to drink. You’d do better to keep an eye on her.”

Gawen’s voice was stern when he spoke. “Thank you, my lord, but I did not ask you. Princess Sansa is free to speak for herself.”

He didn’t let Ramsay retort, instead he pulled Sansa away from him. She closed her eyes and let him lead her further away from the heat, the noise, the crowd. When she opened her eyes again, they were in a corridor the connected to the great hall. They passed a few straggling guests, Gawen nodding his head at them, bit for the most part, Sansa thought everyone looked as drunk as she felt.

“Where are we going?”

He stopped her then and she closed her eyes. His hands were on her shoulders as he leaned her up against a wall and let go. The cool stone felt good against her back. She rested her head against the wall as she caught her breath. “Ow.” The pins Shae had secured her braid with pricked into her scalp. With just a few fumbling movements, she was able to pull the necessary pins free, leaving her braid to hang long at her neck. She sighed before opening her eyes again. Gawen had brought her onto a shadowed alcove along the corridor. She watched him as he paced back and forth. “What are you doing?”

Gawen brought his fist up to his mouth before he spoke. “Who does he think he is? Where does he get off… thinking he can talk to you like that… thinking he can touch you.” He grit his teeth and looked at her. “I’m sorry Sansa. You shouldn’t have to deal with that… that… _ferret face_.” Sansa couldn’t help it. A snort escaped her nose before she could catch it. He whipped around to her. “What?”

“Ferret face?” She managed between the giggles that escaped through her hand at her mouth.

Gawen’s forehead crinkled and for a moment Sansa thought that she had embarrassed him for laughing. But then he joined in with her. “It’s the first thing I thought of.”

Sansa gained control of her laughter and looked at him. “Well you aren’t wrong, I must say.”

Gawen came to stand by her, resting his right hand above her shoulder on the wall. “You won’t ever have to suffer his presence after we’re married. I promise you.”

Sansa swallowed, suddenly serious. “After we’re married.” She repeated, tasting the words on her tongue. Gawen’s expression changed too, becoming more thoughtful. His hair had grown longer she realized. It had fallen in his eyes as he laughed. _Just not long enough._

Sansa reached out to him, pulling him closer, her right hand resting on his left arm that hung at his side. She knew she wouldn’t dare do this if they were sober, but she just had to get a closer look.

His anger that she had just witnessed was nowhere near the fury that Sandor was capable of expressing. She was sure his fierceness as a fighter wouldn’t compare either. He may share his gentleness, tenderness, but she knew it would never compare.

 _He is strong._ Her hand gripped the top of his arm and she could feel his muscles tense under her fingers. _Just not as strong. It’s not his fault though, Sandor is just a beast._

 _He is tall._ Sansa had to look up at him where he stood over her. _Just not nearly tall enough._ She wouldn’t have to stand too high on her toes to kiss him.

His chest too narrow. His hair too light. His nose too small. His eyes too bright. _Maybe if he’s quiet, I can pretend he’s Sandor in the dark._ Sansa tilted her head and squinted her eyes. She raised her hand up to his face, covering the left side as best she could, feeling the surprising smoothness of his skin and the scratchy coarse hair of his beard under her calloused palm.

He laughed then. It was a pleasant sound, smooth and soft. But it wasn’t the laugh that she wanted to hear. Sansa remembered a time, over a month ago now, at the ball at Winterfell. When she looked at Sandor from across the floor and she saw him laugh. How she wished she could have heard it. How she realized then that it was her favorite sound.

“What are you doing?” Gawen smiled and turned into her hand, kissing the heel of her palm, the thick scar tissue that had yet to completely fade from her burns. From saving Sandor. Sansa pushed the thought away and focused on his face as his smile faded away.

“You’re too handsome.”

Gawen’s eyes darkened, ever so slightly, as he leaned forward. “And you are too beautiful.”

“Oh.” _Did I say that out loud?_

But she didn’t have a moment to think on it. Gawen kissed her.

Where her hand rested on his face, it slipped around his neck without her even moving it. His lips were warm when they pressed into hers. This was not the same chaste kiss that he had given her in the godswood. This was something more. He pulled away, but kept his face close to hers. He opened his eyes and looked at her for half a second, seemingly waiting for her to push him away. When she didn’t stop him, he kissed her again. By instinct, she realized, she kissed him back. Her hand lay limp around his neck and he made move to touch her further. He seemed happy enough to move his mouth against hers without trying to force her lips open. The feeling was _pleasant_ , but that’s all there was. A warm feeling on her lips. Nothing more.

“That’s about enough.”

Sansa gasped and opened her eyes. Gawen had already pressed himself on the opposite side of the corridor, as far enough away from her as he could manage.

Sandor stood to the left of her, at a safe distance away. If he hadn’t spoken, she wouldn’t have even known he was there, or that he had seen. _How long_ was _he there?_

She looked back at Gawen as he blinked. “I’m sorry, Sansa.” The look that was just in his eyes before he kissed her was gone. What was left was something akin to shock, perhaps at what he had just done.

She shook her head and found her voice more slowly than she had hoped. “It’s alright.”

“I’ll escort you back to your room. _Princess_.” Sandor spat the final word as if it were an insult.

Sansa turned to him. If he was angry, she couldn’t be sure. His face was a blank mask. His stance relaxed. He didn’t look at Gawen. He kept his chin up, his eyes on her.

“Thank you Clegane.” Gawen muttered.

 _Thank you? What is he thanking him for? Stopping him? Taking me back?_ Sandor still didn’t look at him, but Sansa saw his hand clench into a fist. Sansa whipped her head around to Gawen. “I’ll see you in the morning then, Gawen.” He looked at her, his hand over his mouth and he nodded. Sandor gripped Sansa’s arm then, almost painfully, above her elbow, and steered her away.

The only sound as they went further away from the hall was the sound of Sandor’s feet against the ground. Her feet were barely touching the floor. Once she knew they were out of earshot, she murmured to him. “You’re hurting me.” Sandor’s fingers loosened, but he didn’t lose his hold on her.

Sansa’s head was still spinning. She couldn’t wrap her head around what was happening. It felt like the dance had only just started, and he was bringing her to her room already? It was true, she hadn’t slept very much at all over the last week, but certainly it wasn’t already time for bed.

And why was he being so forceful? _Gawen wasn’t hurting me. Surely I could have stopped him myself if I had wanted to._

It wasn’t until they made it to the guest chambers that Sansa remembered how he had seen them up on the dais. The horrible way he had looked at her. _He can’t seriously be jealous. He doesn’t care enough about me for that._

She was ready to slam her door right in his face when they got to her room, but he dragged her right past it.

“Where are we-“

She didn’t have to question long. After several more doors and another turn, Sandor opened a door. He grabbed her around the waist and yanked her inside. He let her go and she went stumbling into the darkness of an unfamiliar room, lightened only by the small fire in the hearth. He slammed the door shut behind them as she steadied herself. He bolted it before turning on her.

Sansa had never felt so small in all of her life. He stood several paces away, but he still managed to tower over her. The blank expression was gone. The rage she had seen simmering inside of him in the great hall had finally come up to the surface. And she wasn’t ready.

Sansa was alone in a room with the Hound and it was the first time in years that she was afraid of him.

* * *

 

 Sandor

A hill in the middle of the fucking trees. _Is this where I am supposed to spend the rest of my miserable life_? Sandor had never been picky about his living accommodations, and he realized living in this pile of sticks wouldn’t be torture. It would be watching _his lord_ follow her around like a puppy all day long.

Seeing Gawen look at Sansa was bad enough. Seeing her fake a laugh and force a smile around him was worse. But seeing her truly happy and enjoying herself in Gawen’s company made his stomach turn more than it had the morning after the Blackwater.

There were moments when he would let himself hope, let himself think that she truly wasn’t happy with Gawen. When the little queen brought her into her chambers, he heard raised voices, mostly Sansa’s but he couldn’t make out anything she said. He thought for sure that Roslin was going to tell her then, what she had learned in the wheelhouse. But surely she wouldn’t. They had an agreement. When Sansa came storming out of the room, he only got a glimpse of her red face, raw from crying, before she ran down the hall and slammed her door behind her. Somehow, he knew that Roslin had kept her word. He hoped that Sansa was just upset about her current situation. _She’ll get over it, once she realized this is what she has always wanted._ Then he felt worse, for being happy about her being miserable.

At first, he tried not to let it get to him. He focused on internally complaining about the creaking of his guest bed. The wooden frame threatening to crack and collapse with every turn he made in the night. That wasn’t the only reason sleep didn’t come. There were several times during the few short nights in Deepwood that he had gotten up and fought himself on opening the door and finding her. Taking her away. He fantasized about running off to the free cities, the life they could have there, just the two of them. _The Hound doesn’t fantasize about_ shit _. Life is not a song._ In the end, he always ended up drunk in a chair or back in his bed, hating himself all the more.

Sandor had done his best to keep from looking at her. He only did when he had to. He was glad that he could have his back to her and her betrothed as they dined together. He had to look at her on the day of the feast. He had to get her permission to leave her alone with her _ser_ in the godswood. He didn’t know why, but he almost expected her to shake her head no. She almost looked happy to have him leave. And as if his day couldn’t get any worse, the Bolton banners came flooding into the yard.

Sandor didn’t even listen to what the bastard said. It wasn’t until Sansa and Gawen had ran away that Ramsay turned to him. His lips peeled back over his teeth, in a wet, sick smile. “I thought you were going to flay me next time I looked at your Princess.” He took a step closer and Sandor didn’t move. “Oh, how I’d love to see you try.”

Sandor pushed away the urge to gut him right then and there. He figured the King in the North wouldn’t be too happy about that. Instead, he turned on his heel to follow after Sansa, doing his best to ignore the snickering behind his back.

 

Sandor supposed that it was only because he couldn’t have her anymore, but he knew that all the dresses she’d ever worn, of all the ways she’d styled her hair… he was sure this was by far his favorite. Second only to her perfect naked body and free flowing curls, messy from rolling around with him in his bed. The deep green of her velvet dress looked almost as soft as her skin. Her hair was pulled off of her neck, away from her face. The marks he had made there were no longer visible. _Only temporary. Just like_ us _._

By the time he finished a flagon of wine on his own, he didn’t care about how he stared at her. _She’s not looking at me anyway._ She’s giving all of her attention to her new _ser_. If Sansa was feeling any reluctance for her future, she certainly was not showing it tonight. He watched them over the edge of his cup. Talking. Laughing. Leaning in toward one another. Her hand on his arm. His mouth whispering in her ear. Her _feeding_ him. Her _licking_ the fork that was just in his fucking mouth.

A surge of white hot heat boiled in his chest. He realized that he had growled under his breath, the man standing near to him shifting even further away. He watched her pink tongue move across the prongs. His eyes flashed to her _ser_ , who looked even more shocked than Sandor felt. _She’s drunk,_ he tried to convince himself. _She doesn’t realize what she’s doing._

_What does it matter what she’s doing? What does it matter if it was his cock she licked. She’s not yours._

At the thought, Sansa seemed to finally come to her senses. She looked down at the fork she had dropped, Gawen, and then directly at him. He didn’t even flinch. He didn’t blink. He held her stare. The breath that came out of her was almost visible even from this far away. For the first time in days, he didn’t let his eyes break from hers. His furious, hers suddenly terrified. Though if she was scared of Sandor or what she had just done, he couldn’t be sure. But the moment had passed when Gawen lifted her up to her feet.

He reached for another flagon then, not even bothering with the damned cup this time, as the tables and benches were shoved out of the way. He glanced up every once and a while, seeing that she was dancing happily with her family, old and new. _I should have danced with her. For all the times she asked. I’ll never get to hold her again._

He lost count of the flagons of wine he’d emptied by that point. When he turned around again, she was gone. His first thought was the Bolton bastard, but Sandor found him easily enough eyeing up an unsuspecting wench. With no Umbers in attendance, Sandor was the tallest man in the room. That made it easy enough to scan over the rest of the crowd. She was nowhere to be found. Same as was Gawen. He moved through the hordes of people easily. People always tended to create a path for him and he used that to his advantage tonight.

Sandor took to the adjoining corridors in search for her. In the first one he chose he almost collided with Ser Greenboy, who was well into his cups and didn’t even notice Sandor has he passed. He turned his head to watch him stumble away back into the hall. As distracted as Sandor was, he still couldn’t help but notice that Darol looked a little too happy with himself.

The reason why slammed right into his chest. He caught Mal before she could fall over. She blinked up at him, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. _Seven hells._

“Have you seen Sansa?” He snarled at her, gripping into her shoulders. She didn’t say anything, she just tried to pull away. Sandor shook her for good effect. “ _Have you seen Sansa_?” When she knew she wasn’t going anywhere, she squinted her angry little eyes up at him, her mouth sealed shut.

“What’s the matter Mal? Something stuck in your throat?” Indignation flashed across her face. She tried to reach up to smack him but with the way he held her arms under the shoulder, she couldn’t reach all the way. “ _Did you see her_?”

Defeated, she finally answered. “She passed with Ser Gawen, just a few minutes ago.” He released her and moved her aside.

Sandor continued down the corridor, making a turn, passing a dark alcove and made it to the end of the hall. _Where…_ And then he spun back around. _The alcove._

Sure enough, when he let himself look, they were there. Gawen had her pressed against the wall. He saw her hand around his neck, and that she wasn’t pushing him away. Sandor’s hands curled into fists, and he had to fight the urge to rip the man off of her as he had done with the greenboy so long ago.

Instead he spoke, the words rumbling from his chest. “That’s about enough.”

Gawen broke away from her before he had to do anything. Sansa looked over at him slowly. Her braid had become loose and hung down in front of her chest. Her eyes were hooded with drink, but she did not turn red as he expected her to. They exchanged a few words that he couldn’t hear over the anger of his own mind and then he grabbed her. He didn’t let go until she was in his room and the door was bolted shut behind them.

He hadn’t felt so angry in… he didn’t know how long. But all of a sudden she looked at him the way she used to in Kings Landing. _A little girl. Afraid._ He wanted to shake her. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to scream at her. He settled for silence until he could decide.

“Is this your room?” She chirped.

“No shit it’s my room.”

She looked down, wringing her hands together. He didn’t even feel guilty for snapping at her.

“Is there something you wanted to discuss?” Her voice was small, but she looked back up at him now, any trace of her drunkenness washed away in the tide of his anger.

He found the words, somewhere deep inside of himself and finally spoke. “Your behavior, _Princess_.”

Sansa nodded and bit her lip. “My behavior.”

“Aye.” She was waiting for him to continue, that much was obvious. He just didn’t know where to begin.

“Would you mind, telling me exactly how _my behavior_ has offended you, _my lord_.”

Sandor ground his teeth together before he finally spoke. “Sneaking off in the middle of the feast to kiss your perfect knight. Tell me, does Ser Gawen know that those pretty pink lips of yours were around my cock the other night?”

The breath that escaped her mouth felt like a lance to the gut. He half expected her to hit him, but she just looked...broken. He wouldn’t let himself feel sorry for that. Not yet anyway.

“I don’t understand.” She shook her head, looking completely confused. Defeated.

“Don’t understand what?” He growled.

She looked up at him then, a confused expression on her face, but her eyes were as cold as ice. “I don’t understand. You… why do you care? Just… just the other morning… you pushed me away like I was… nothing. You said _it’s been fun_.” She let out something between a sigh and a laugh. “I don’t understand.”

“Why do I care? Because you’re the Princess of fucking Winterfell and you still don’t know how to act like it.”

“No.” She shook her head again and took a step closer to him.

“No?”

“No. That’s not it.” She smiled sadly. “You’re not angry with me. You’re angry about this.” She put her hands out to her sides. “Being here. _Me_ being here. With Gawen.” He swallowed then. _How did she turn this around on me?_ Sansa nodded to herself, as if realizing something. She let out another laugh-sigh and licked her lips. “You _do_ care. Don’t you?” He was frozen to the spot. “Sandor. You _know_ this wasn’t my decision.”

The heat of his anger prickled at the back of his throat and he whirled away from her.

“Your decision? Of course this was your _fucking_ decision. It was your decision to let this betrothal to him happen. It was your decision when you agreed to coming on this godsforsaken trip. You chose to send me away, to be alone with him in the godswood. You chose to make yourself even more beautiful for him tonight.” He laughed, a cruel sound that made her flinch. “If you expect me to be happy, to stand idly by while I watch the woman I love fall for another man then you are sorely mistaken _Princess_. Was it not your decision to laugh with him? To touch him? To _feed_ him? To lick his spit off that fork? You chose to follow him into that dark hallway. To kiss him.” As he spoke, her eyes seemed to soften, she tilted her head to the side and stepped closer to him. Her hands were at her sides, her palms facing him, as if approaching a wild animal. “This is what you’ve always wanted Sansa. A handsome knight to call your own. So don’t you go about telling me that you don’t want this, that you _have no choice_. That’s bullshit Sansa, and you know it.” She stepped even closer to him and it made him shut up. His chest was heaving, he was breathing hard in and out of his nose, but she was still – calm. She reached out for his hand, clenched into a fist at his side.

“What are you doing?” He snarled at her.

She brought his fist up to her mouth with both of her hands. She brushed her lips over his knuckles and his grip immediately relaxed. She looked up at him slowly from under her lashes and whispered into his hand.

“You love me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gasp!!! LEMONY LOOOOVE!!!! Sandy slipped up and I couldn't be happier.
> 
> I hope that beast was worth the wait!
> 
> It took so long becaaauuseeee.... I GOT A JOB!!!  
> I will be a ninth grade English teacher for real now! Three weeks until day one!  
> Kind of freaking out because that means I will be able to post even less, and while we are getting close to the end, I'm not going to be able to finish before the school year starts like I had planned.
> 
> P.S.  
> Ramsay being referred to as Ferret Face came from the lovely fic, Stars Over Essos, of course.  
> and the jape made at Mal came from a lovely conversation between Adult Orphan and AngryTimeLadyClara.


	80. Chapter 80

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought we all deserved some lemony fluff. Might be too much. Be ready to gag from the sweetness.

Sansa

She couldn’t be sure for a moment. Only for a moment. But then she repeated what he said in her own head as he continued on rambling.

 _If you expect me to be happy, to stand idly by while I watch the woman I love fall for another man, then you are sorely mistaken_ _Princess_ _._

_… to stand idly by while I watch the woman I love fall for another man…_

_…the woman I love…_

It dawned on her slowly. _He means me._

 _He_ loves _me._

An indescribable warmth spread throughout her body. When she first realized she loved him, she felt a prickling, tingling heat fill up her entire body. But this, hearing from his lips in his own cruel way, that _he_ loved _her_ , it was completely different. The knowledge spread through her slowly, like honey, warming her to her core, coursing through her veins, filling up her heart with a sudden heaviness that she never experienced before, never knew she could experience. She walked up to him then, completely ignorant to the words he spewed at her. It made no matter.

_He loves me._

She grabbed his hand and brought it to her lips. She smiled then, seeing his furious but confused expression. She felt her heart fluttering in her chest before she made herself look up at him. His eyes had softened from her touch.

Her voice was barely above a whisper. “You love me?”

Sandor froze. His face became as still as stone. “What?”

Sansa nodded slowly, moving her lips over his knuckles. She smiled again. _He doesn’t even realize he said it._ She pulled his hand down from her face and took a step closer, not letting go. When she spoke again, she did so more clearly and without question. “You love me.”

His eyes widened. “What are you talking about girl?” He yanked his hand away from her and turned around. She waited a moment, for him to say something, but the only sound was the crackle of the wood in the hearth. Sansa felt a giggle rise up in her throat. She covered her mouth to push it away. A man like Sandor Clegane should not be laughed at, especially when he just unknowingly declared his love for her.

“You just said.” She murmured through her hand. She could see his shoulders rising and falling as he breathed heavily. She took a deep breath and tried to bite back the smile that took control of her lips. She stepped forward toward him, slowly as if not to startle him. When she finally got in front of him, facing him again, he wouldn’t look at her. His hands were in fists at his sides and he stared at a speck of dust on the ground, his eyes wide.

“You said…the woman I love.” She swallowed, her heart beating in her ears. “Is that _not_ me?”

He hadn’t blinked and didn’t look up to her when he spoke. “That’s not what I meant.”

“No?” The smile escaped her then. His head snapped up at looked at her. She had to cover her mouth with her hand again, but this time she was too late. The start of a laugh slipped out before she could help it.

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” His eyes were a storm. Sansa couldn’t remember ever seeing him more angry, but she couldn’t control herself. “Oh you think it’s funny don’t you?”

“It’s not _funny_.” She giggled again and bit her lips. “I’m just…happy.”

“ _Happy?_ Happy that your tricks finally worked? Happy that I’ll spend the rest of my days pining for you like a sick dog? Happy that you’ve finally succeeded in making a fool of me?”

Sansa gasped lightly and covered her mouth again. _So then it is true_. She found her breath and made herself put her hand down to her side. “No.” And she knew what she had to do. What she had wanted to do for weeks. She stepped toward him again and grabbed his hand before he could pull it away. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, not taking her eyes away from his. “I love you.”

The feeling in her was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. It was like the tingling warmth that spread through her when she realized she loved him only one hundred times over. Like a wildfire ignited in her chest and took over the rest of her. The giggling feeling vanished once she said it and the storm in his eyes immediately faded. It was replaced by something that she could not yet identify. Something she couldn’t put into words. She moved closer to him.

“Sandor.” It came out in a whimper, she was shocked to hear. “I love you.” The next was nearly a sob and her vision became blurry. “I love you.”

She heard him breathe in through his teeth as tears started to fall, unbidden, from her eyes. His hands moved to her waist before she even noticed and she was off the ground and in his arms in the same second. At first she thought he meant to kiss her, but he crushed her harder against him so her head was resting on his shoulder, his face nuzzling into her neck. _He’s_ hugging _me._ The thought only made her squeeze him tighter around the neck and he did the same, wrapping his arms completely around her middle. Any trace of wine in her veins was replaced by an overwhelming feeling of utter happiness. She calmed as she breathed in the familiar scent of him. She reached his neck and kissed him, sighing into his skin. “ _Gods_ I missed you.” His only response was to hold her tighter. It was difficult to get a full breath, but she didn’t care, he still wasn’t close enough.

“Little bird.” Sandor’s words hit her skin as a sigh and sent shivers down her spine. Sansa closed her eyes and felt her mouth widen into a smile. She kissed him, up his neck, his good ear, his jaw, until finally, he turned and pressed his mouth to hers.

He put her down on the ground and released her, but only for a moment as he slipped his shirts over his head. Her hands went to her waist, worrying over the ties on her wrap dress. She cursed Mallory for tying the knot so tightly, but Sandor lacked the patience. She felt his fingers at her shoulders and they curled under the edge of the fabric against her skin. She heard the velvet tear before she felt it fall away from her. The laces on her bodice were more easily loosened. By the time she had finished, he had already helped her step out of her beautiful green gown, now in a useless heap on the floor. His boots and breeches were gone. She didn’t even notice when that happened. So they stood there, in naught but their small clothes, staring at each other. A look like she had never seen on him before crossed his face, a small but thoughtful closed-lipped smile, his eye crinkling in the corners. Sansa realized she was returning an almost identical face before leaping on him. He caught her easily and she wrapped her legs around his waist.

“I love you.” She said before kissing him. He walked her over to the bed as she trailed kisses up his neck his jaw, his ear. “I love you I love you I love you.”

He laid her on the bed and it creaked loudly as he hovered over her. But she didn’t even think on it. All she could hear, all she could feel and think about was Sandor. His hands, his mouth, his tongue, as he moved over her with a renewed fervor that she couldn’t even wrap her head around.

Soon enough, their small clothes were gone. Sandor edged her toward the head board with another resounding creak in the wood. She rested her head on a pillow and looked up at him as he positioned himself over her. In the near darkness, she could still see the lightness in his eyes. He pressed her into the mattress and kissed her then, so slowly, deeply and passionately that Sansa was sure her heart would burst from happiness. But he broke away from her and searched her eyes again. His face had changed once more and Sansa knew that this was the most serious she had ever seen him. It almost reminded her of the time that seemed so long ago, when she helped him bathe in his room. How quiet they had been, how they never stopped looking at each other. She breathed in and put her hand to his face, feeling the warmth and familiar patterns the fire had burned into his flesh.

“Sansa.” He rasped, his voice sounding far away.

“Hmm?” She tilted her head and smiled up at him.

“I love you.”

* * *

Shae

Sansa was right about something, she realized. _The castle is a little musty._

She sniffed and wiped her nose as she climbed the stairs to the guest chambers. Shae didn’t mind the smell though. It oddly reminded her of being in Conall’s shop, the smell of the wood he used to carve and make his toys. She smiled wistfully thinking of him.

_I miss him._

She supposed she would have to get used to that feeling. She and Conall had both been worried about going further with their relationship. Shae’s imminent relocation to Deepwood Motte would undoubtedly hinder any plans they might create. But there was something undeniable in what they had, something she didn’t know she could ever experience. That was until Tyrion.

Shae sighed as she reached the landing of the steps and made for her small room that she unfortunately had to share with Mallory, but she was barely in there anyway. Shae had gone up earlier than she had planned, but seeing everyone coupled off just put her in a sour mood. The guest chambers were empty and quiet as she walked through the corridor.

Shae gasped and jumped as a loud creak followed by a bang echoed down the hall. She moved with hurried steps to where the sound came from and found herself at what she remembered to be Sandor’s door. She wanted to knock, but she stopped herself. Instead, she put her ear to the door. She heard a creaking again, but it was more subdued than before, and it continued in a rhythmic pattern.

 _"No."_ She whispered to herself and listened in more closely. And then she heard it. Heavy breathing, a low keening moan, a small shuddering gasp. Shae smacked a hand over her mouth and took a step back. She looked to her right and left, thankful that the corridor was still empty. She was sure Sansa and Sandor would be too.

* * *

Sansa

Sansa lay on her stomach, Sandor on his back. She leaned over him, propping herself up comfortably on her elbows, her left hand holding up her head as the fingers on her right played in the soft hair of his chest. Sandor traced a line from her shoulder down to her elbow and back again with his right hand, his left was moving in slow circles on her lower back. Their movements were so absentminded, Sansa couldn’t help but day dream in the near darkness.

“A miller’s daughter?” She asked.

“Hmm?” He tilted his head and looked up at her.

“I’m just trying to think of what it would have been like. If I wasn’t Sansa Stark. And you weren’t _the Hound_.”

Sandor shook his head. “Then we never would have met.”

“Exactly. Which is why I’m thinking…what if I were born to a miller in the Westerlands instead of to a Lord in the North.”

He shook his head again. “Mmm. Too plain.”

Sansa smiled. “Alright then. Who should I have been?”

Sandor breathed in and sighed, Sansa moving slightly with the rise and fall of his chest. His hand moved to her hair and she repositioned herself to let him comb through it. After a minute, he finally thought of something. “The daughter of a merchant. Not too wealthy, but well off enough to have you dressed in fine summer silks, and to let you have a man of your choosing.”

Sansa heard herself giggle quietly. “And I thought you had no need for songs.”

He chuckled underneath her. “Who would I be then?”

Sansa didn’t need to think about that. “The grandson of a kennel master.” A slow, knowing smile spread across Sandor’s lips and it warmed Sansa to the core.

A question was burning in the back of her mind, but she was nervous to ask it. She pushed her nerves away though, and finally sputtered it out. “How long do you think...” Sansa trailed off, suddenly and oddly shy to ask. But he waited. “What I mean to say is…when do you think it was…that you realized? That you loved me.”

Another smile crept onto Sandor’s lips and Sansa felt herself return it. She swore that she’d never seen him smile so much in so little time before. The thought made her even happier.

“I realized it when your little beast of a brother told me.”

Sansa’s head snapped up. “ _What?”_

Sandor laughed lightly and shrugged. “He cornered me one day. Told me how obvious it was. Didn’t realize it until then.” He sighed again.

Sansa sighed and relaxed again. She knew it was strange, the way Rickon tried to talk to her about things. She never really thought Sandor would be the type to talk to her little brother about her though.

“So, Rickon knows.” She finally said.

“And Shae.” He added. But that wasn’t all she realized.

“Actually…”

He narrowed his eyes. “Sansa?”

“There’s one more.”

He shook his head. “Two then.”

Sansa squinted her eyes at him. “Who?”

When they spoke, it was at the same time. “ _Roslin_.”

Sansa shook her head. “How?”

“When you passed out on the road. You wouldn’t let go of me.” Sansa felt herself flush. “I had to stay in there alone with her.” He shook his head. “She guessed.”

It dawned on Sansa before she even spoke. “ _Oh.”_

“Oh what?”

 _What a fool you are Sansa Stark_. “That’s what she meant.” Sandor waited as she processed her thoughts. “The other day, when Roslin and Shae _interrogated_ me…remember when Robb came in and I ran right back out?” He nodded. “Apparently she _guessed_ with me too. But I didn’t know she had known about you.” She sighed. “It makes sense now. She started to say that there was something I didn’t know. But then Robb came in and I ran away.”

They were quiet for a moment, before he spoke. “You don’t think…”

“No.” Sansa shook her head. “She wouldn’t tell him.”

Sandor nodded in agreement. They were quiet again so she rested her head on his chest. After a moment, he spoke.

“The more I think about it…” He started.

“The more you think about what?” She tilted her face up to his.

“When I knew.” He looked up to the ceiling. “I think it might have been your nameday. When I found you in that meadow, laying back in the grass, your face warm in the sun.” Another smile pulled the good corner of his lips up and he nodded. “I think that was it.” He still stared up at the ceiling so Sansa brushed a thumb under her eye to wipe away a tear before he looked at her. “What about you?”

Sansa knew exactly when. “I realized it the morning after the first night we spent together. I woke up before you-“

“I remember.”

“You slept with your head on my chest.” She looked down at his chest and shook her head. “I can remember the way it felt, when I knew for sure…” She smiled to herself and trailed off. “But it must have been earlier than that.” She looked up at him. “Maybe in the snow. In the godswood.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “And that’s why you ran away.” It wasn’t a question.

“I guess so.” She laughed lightly, remembering.

Sandor took a deep breath before he spoke. “So…your plan to rid yourself of your maidenhead with someone you _trust_. It was all a farce, hmm?” Sansa felt her cheeks warm at being found out, but she made herself keep his gaze. She nodded. “You wanted to give it to someone you loved.”

Sansa nodded again. “It really wasn’t that complicated.” She swallowed. “I just knew I loved you. And I wanted it to be you. Still do.” She bit her lip. “I always will.”

Sandor’s eyes moved back and forth over hers for just a second before he pulled her on top of him. Sansa nearly lost her breath over the quick movement. Sandor moved his hands up her body, sending chills to every part of her. His hands cupped her face, holding her so close to his before he told her for the second time tonight.

“I love you, Sansa.” And he kissed her.

 

It was some time later before they spoke again. By that time, Sansa was almost completely drained of energy. Almost. She moaned when Sandor got up to put another log on the dwindling fire. Sansa could hear sounds from the hallway. Her household returning from the feast it would seem. She wondered if their absence would have been noticed, but decided against it. Everyone was drunk and Gawen had seen her off with Sandor. He wouldn’t think anything of it.

 _Gawen._ Sansa’s eyes widened at the thought of her husband to be. They were getting along so well. _And I had to go back to square one with Sandor._ She felt a small pang of guilt as the room brightened with the new log catching on fire. The feeling dissipated though, as Sansa found herself admiring the hard panes of Sandor’s stomach when he turned to her.

“Oh.” He muttered.

She sat up. “What? What is it?”

He shook his head. “I knew something wasn’t right.”

Panic rose in her chest. “What isn’t right? Sandor, what’s happened?”

He paused. “We broke the bed.”

“Oh.” Now that she thought of it, the bed _did_ seem to be slanting down toward the left corner. The panicked feeling remained though. “They’ll know.” She whispered.

“Who? How? It was creaking since I first laid on it. Old piece of shit.” He kicked at the broken leg knocking something else away and it lurched forward falling completely to the ground on that corner. Sansa gasped as she slid down toward the edge.

“How did we not notice that?” She asked as he walked over to her.

“I was a bit distracted.” He reached for her hand and pulled her off of the bed. She stood in front of him as he put her arm around his neck. “I think you were too.” Sansa hmm’ed in agreement before she reached up to kiss him. His arms wrapped around her. She ran her hands down the front of him, but he stopped her when she got to his waist. He groaned and pulled away from her mouth. “ _Again?”_

Sansa fought uselessly against his hands and tried to reach his mouth. She settled for his neck. “Can you blame me?”

“You better give me a minute girl.” Sansa tried to hide her smile. “Help me with this mess.” He nodded toward the bed and again toward the hearth.

Sansa let go of him to move toward the fire. She kicked their clothes out of the way and Sandor lifted the mattress off the bed. He dragged it toward the fire, laying it a good distance away. With the chill she already felt in the room without him, Sansa bent and tugged it just a little closer. He looked sideways at her and she shrugged. “I’ll sleep on this side.”

She straightened the pillows and he arranged the sheet and furs nicely on the mattress.

“It looks so cozy.” She thought aloud as he stepped around the mattress. Sansa didn’t let herself turn as she felt him move behind her. She sighed when he wrapped his arms around her. Her hair had come lose from its braid some time ago and he moved it out of the way to better access her neck. She hummed as his tongue, his lips, his teeth worked their way down to her shoulder and back up again to her ear. “I’d hate to ruin it.” She murmured.

In the next second Sansa felt herself being tossed into the air. She landed on the bed with a yelp in a heap of limbs and giggles, the furs and pillows in disarray again from the movement. Sandor knelt down onto the mattress and crept over to her, his eyes reflecting the hunger she felt for him. “Too late.”

 

“Sandor?”

“…..”

“…. Sandor?” She nudged him.

“Mmm?”

“Don’t fall asleep.”

He sniffed. “I’m not.”

“You already did.”

“Not my fault.” His hand that was on her back moved down to her bottom and gripped it lightly. Sansa heard him laugh as she swatted at him.

“I think that might be my favorite.” She said after a minute.

“What?” He asked groggily.

“Your laugh.”

“My laugh?”

“Mhmm.” She brought her hand up to his face in the darkness. “Besides this of course.” She traced her thumb over the rough skin under his left eye. She heard his breaths deepen as she did. “Your eyes.” She moved her face closer to him. “Your lips.” She kissed him once and pulled away. “I’m quite fond of your nose.” She could feel more than hear him laugh. “Your face in general, really.”

She felt him shake his head and sigh.

She waited a minute. “What do you like best about me?”

“Sansa.” He groaned.

“Come on.” She poked him lightly in the ribs. He pushed her hand out of the way and brought her closer.

He muttered something under his breath that sounded like, ‘so many questions tonight.’

“Well. There’s that damned face of yours to start.” He pushed her on her back when she laughed, but he made no move to climb over her. “So besides that…” His hand trailed down her body and cupped between her legs. “This...” Sansa gave a light gasp before his hand moved back up and stopped at her breast. “And these…” He gave a firm squeeze, eliciting another giggle from her. In the dark she could hear that he was smiling again. He trailed his fingers up higher and traced them lightly from her chest, collar bone and shoulder before going back again. “…I would have to say these.”

“My… shoulder?”

“Mmm. Your freckles.” He leaned over and kissed her shoulder once before moving away and falling back into the bed. Sansa didn’t know what to say. It certainly wasn’t what she was expecting. She’d always felt self-conscious of her freckles as a child. Arya and Jeyne didn’t have any. Her mother told her that Robb had them too, but they always made her feel different, ugly. Dirty almost, as she used to try to scrub them off in the bath before she realized they weren’t going anywhere. She learned to accept them over the years, but they were by far and away from anything she was _proud_ of. For them to be a part of her that he loved the most made her head spin.

She turned to her side and draped her arm over him. “Why my freckles?”

He sighed, clearly exhausted. But he answered. “I don’t know.” He wrapped his arm over her shoulder and pulled her close, so her head rested on his chest. “Maybe it’s because only I can see them.”

Sansa felt a warming in her cheeks and her belly. Suddenly she couldn’t bear being in the darkness anymore. “Can’t we get more wood for the fire?” The last log had burned out before either of them did, and now they were in complete darkness.

“We can use pieces of the bed.” He sniggered.

“No. We already _broke_ the furniture. It would be rude to burn it too.”

“Mmm.” He was quiet for a minute and Sansa buried her face in his chest again. She heard his breaths become more steady, deeper.

“Sandor.” She jabbed him with a finger to the ribs. “Wake up!”

“Bloody hells girl.” He groaned in frustration.

“Don’t fall asleep!”

“Why?”

“Because...” She waited, not knowing how to explain.

“Tomorrow is going to come whether we sleep or not, little bird.”

Sansa sighed. Of course he knew why she was so reluctant to close her eyes. Sandor groaned and stretched. He turned toward her and pulled her close, wrapping both arms around her, burying his face in her hair. He kissed her head and inhaled deeply. She did the same to the only part of him her lips could reach burrowed deep within his chest.

She felt him let go of her to pull the fur up around them. Even though she fought it, she felt her eyes close. She was suddenly so tired, that if he waited another moment, she might not have heard it.

“The sun coming up won’t make me love you any less.”

* * *

Shae

Sleep didn’t come easy for Shae, even though she was alone in the room she and Mallory shared. She was up before the sun and she figured she better use the inconvenience to help Sansa. The girl whom she was sure didn’t think twice about how she was going to sneak out of Sandor’s room in the morning. She waited until the sky began to grey before grabbing her cloak and wrapping her robe tightly around her and padding out her door. Based on everyone’s drinking last night, Shae was correct in assuming that she would be the very first one up. She made her way to Sandor’s door and took a deep breath before knocking.

She waited and listened. No movement. No answer.

She sighed and knocked harder. After a second she heard the rustling of blankets and then a raspy _‘fuck’._

“It’s just me.” She whispered into the crack of the door.

“Shae.” Sansa grumbled. She heard movement again, heavy stumbling footsteps, a pause and then more footsteps toward the door. She stepped back when he opened it. Sandor stood there in naught but his breeches, unlaced, which he held up with one hand. His eyes were half open and he tilted his head to the side, indicating for her to enter.

 _I don’t know if I want to._ But she did anyway.

The sight that lay before her was unlike anything Shae had ever seen. “ _What the fuck_.” Tunic, small clothes, bodice, shift and an all but shredded green velvet gown lay in heaps on the floor. A messy mattress was smashed between the hearth and the remnants of a broken bed. The wood of one corner splintered and crumbled to mere tinder.

“So _that_ was the noise.”

Shae wouldn’t have noticed Sansa if she hadn’t mumbled from under the furs. “You heard that?”

“I would be surprised if the whole damn castle hadn’t heard that.”

Sansa appeared from under the covers then. “You don’t really think…”

“No. I was in the hallway when it happened.” She took pleasure in watching Sansa redden before adding. “The _empty_ hallway.”

Sansa huffed and flopped back on the bed, covering her head with the fur again. Sandor moved next to Shae and crossed his arms over his chest. Shae looked up at him. The crooked smile that was on his face almost made Shae blush and she suddenly wished she wasn’t in the room with them. She shook the thought away.

“I’ve got a cloak for you. Have to get you back to your room Sansa.”

“I know.” The fur murmured.

Sandor chuckled lightly in his throat and Shae shoved the cloak in his arms. He took it and walked toward Sansa. Shae turned to gather up the remnants of Sansa’s clothing from the floor, gingerly picking around Sandor’s small clothes, as she heard him help Sansa up and into the cloak. She tried to ignore the quiet kissing sounds coming from behind her, making her footsteps and rustling louder. When she stood, it still didn’t stop. She cleared her throat loudly before slowly turning around, thankful that they had pulled apart just in time.

“You ready?”

Sansa didn’t look away from him, but she nodded.

Shae walked to the door and opened it up only a crack. She peeked through to the hall. Still empty. She looked over her shoulder to usher Sansa out, but they were bloody kissing again.

“ _Gods._ Sansa!” She said in a loud whisper. Sansa broke away from Sandor with a sharp intake of breath. They exchanged another look and Shae had to look away. Not soon enough, Sansa was finally with Shae. She checked the hall again before shoving her out into it. Sandor shut the door quietly behind them and they hurried off to Sansa’s room with the lightest possible footsteps.

They made it there without incident, thankfully. Shae knew she had to get rid of Sansa’s clothes, but she just stuffed them in her trunk to deal with later. Sansa dropped Shae’s cloak to the floor and walked in a daze toward her bed.

“I _love_ him Shae.”

Shae sighed. “I know.”

Sansa climbed into the tightly tucked sheets of her bed. “And he loves _me_.”

“ _I know_.”

Sansa sighed dreamily and stretched her arms over her head, yawning. Shae couldn’t find the cruelness in her heart to remind Sansa that she was promised to another. _Let her sleep. She’ll have to think about it again soon enough._ She turned away and gathered her cloak off of the floor.

“Shae!”

She whipped around. “What?”

Sansa sat up in bed. “My shoes.”

Shae’s chin fell into her chest with a groan. “I’ll be right back.”

“Thank you.” Sansa whispered before placing her head gracefully back on the pillow.

Shae went through the empty corridor again and made her way back to Sandor’s room. He opened it quickly with a question in his eyes. “Her shoes.” He nodded and moved to let her in. He hadn’t dressed himself yet. But she was glad to see that he had at least managed to put the mattress back onto the bed. Shae found Sansa’s shoes easily enough and picked them up. She moved back to the closed door, but she felt that she couldn’t leave without saying _something_.

She turned toward him. “I think it’s going to be harder for her than ever…now.”

He nodded, meaningfully. “I know.”

“She seems…hopeful.”

Sandor nodded again but said nothing. _Gods. Don’t tell me he thinks this is going to change anything too._ Shae couldn’t bear it anymore. She just shook her head and turned to leave. He moved to open the door before her and stood back to let her through.

“Well…” Shae pushed Sansa’s shoes behind her back before she even looked up. When she did, her stomach dropped to her feet. _Fuck me._ The smirk on Mallory’s face made her insides turn. The girl crossed her arms over her chest and laughed. “What do we have here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops.
> 
> Alright so what's gonna happen?!?! GAH!!! I hope to post quite a long one within a week or so!
> 
> Thank AngryTimeLadyClara for the bed breaking goodness. 
> 
> I'd like to take the time to mention some of the music I've been listening to again while writing this beast. It's been, you know, inspirational and shit.  
> Kin - Larkin Poe, Sound and Color - Alabama Shakes, Venus - Joy Williams ('til forever' might have had a lot to do with the lemons in this fluffy post), Currents - Tame Impala, Evergreen - Broods, Up in Flames - Ruelle, The Raucous Snoring Sounds of the one and only Mr. Fancy Kid, and more that I'm probably forgetting and will add later. 
> 
> Yes. Okay. Discuss. Bye.


	81. Chapter 81

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy moly. Adulting is getting way too serious. I wanted this to be so much longer, but I just have no time.

_Sandor_

Of all the horrible ways this morning could have turned, Sandor never expected it to be like this.

Sandor had pulled the mattress back onto the bed, ignoring the continued creaking of the broken wood. He’d have to get another room for the remainder of the stay. _Or I could say bugger them all and just stay in her bed._ Even the thought, he knew, was impossible. He moved the broken pieces of the bed into a pile with his foot, remembering last night.

 _She’s perfect, in every way possible. No_ , the thought. _Except for one._

_There must be something wrong with her, if she is in love with me._

_She loves me._

Sandor felt the corners of his mouth turn up for the hundredth time in the last several hours. _Fucking grinning fool. Look like the greenboy after Mal sucks his cock_. Sandor let out a bark of laughter at the thought, almost missing the rap at the door.

Shae looked angry in the doorway, there to retrieve Sansa’s shoes. _Mmm. She always looks angry._ He couldn’t help but think that that is what he used to be like. Until the little bird snuck in and changed him into something he could barely recognize. Sandor barely listened as Shae indignantly told him how this wouldn’t work or whatever she chirped about. He knew that. _Don’t need to think about it yet, was all._

He was ready to shove her and her sour thoughts out the door, but something was in the way.

“Well. What do we have here?”

Sandor felt a pair of small shoes being thrust into his hands. He took them without thinking and tossed them to the side behind the door. Mallory didn’t see. She was focused on the mess of a bed behind him and Shae. _Shae. Fuck._

“Get out of my way Mallory.” Shae growled at her.

“Oh no.” The girl laughed. “I’m not going anywhere.” She put her hand on the side of the door, blocking Shae’s escape. Sandor had a thought to make her move, to throw the cunt down the fucking stairs, but no doubt she would wake up the entire fucking castle with her screams. “My…” She shook her head at Shae and Sandor, both frozen to the floor. “…it just makes _so_ much sense now.” She forced out a laugh, but Sandor could see something else in her eyes. _Jealousy?_

“What are you talking about Mallory?” Shae spat.

“Oh Shae _please_. Give me _some_ credit. Or would you have me believe that it was another couple who made this mess?”

Shae whipped her head around to Sandor, pleading with her eyes. He felt his nostrils flare. _Does she want me to tell the truth?_ He gave the smallest shake of his head. _She can’t be serious._ Shae’s shoulders slumped and she turned back to Mal.

“Hound. I shouldn’t expect any less I suppose.” Mal laughed. _What the fuck does that mean?_ “But Shae? I never knew you had it in you.” Sandor saw Shae’s hand clench into a fist and he caught her hand behind her back before she could swing. The rumors Mallory was bound to spread would be bad enough, no need to make it worse by having Sansa’s maids tear each other to bits. _Although_ , he thought, _it might be fun to watch_. No doubt, Shae would come out the victor. As if proving his point, Shae managed to wrestle her wrist from his grasp. Mallory continued to laugh, but she made no move to leave.

“Enough girl.” He growled. She stopped laughing, but the smile stayed on her lips, a teasing look in her eyes. “You’ve had your fun. Get out of the way.”

Mallory sighed and gave them a mocking half-curtsey. “Oh thank you my lord, _my lady_ , for this wonderful treat.” She turned and continued her way down the hall, giggling to herself all the while.

The moment she disappeared, Shae turned around and started to beat at his chest with her fist. “Why didn’t you deny it?!” Unlike Sansa’s past feeble attempts, Sandor knew Shae’s would leave a mark. He put out his hands and pushed her away.

“What did you want me to say? No, Mal, even though it looks obvious it wasn’t Shae in my bed last night. It was your princess. Is that what I should have said? Should I have ruined everything for Sansa to save _your_ reputation?”

“This isn’t _my_ problem!” She spun away from him and put her face in her hands and he knew she knew he was right. “Fuck!” She shouted and kicked at a piece of the bed, sending it flying against the wall.

Sandor’s mind was in a whirl, thinking of all the things he would have to go through now that Mal thought he was fucking Shae. _She’s probably told half the household already. Buggering hells. Good King Robb will be reprimanding us by the morning meal._

“Mal is never going to let this go.” Shae whined.

“I know.”

Shae’s hands fell to her sides. Her face went from hopeless to furious again, all in one second. “Well!” She smacked her hands together and plastered a fake smile on her face. “Better go tell the princess who’s been fucking behind her back!”

Sandor sighed. Letting this lie get out was better than anyone knowing the truth, but Sandor knew it still wasn’t going to be easy. Shae stalked toward the door to leave.

“Wait.” He muttered, remembering.

“What!”

He pointed behind the open door. “Her shoes.”

Shae groaned and bent to pick them up from behind the door, which she proceeded to slam behind her.

* * *

_Sansa_

The slamming of the door was sure to have awoken the entire castle and it rung in Sansa’s ears as she shot straight up out of bed. The following pounding footsteps got louder and louder until Sansa knew they were coming for her. She didn’t even get to fall asleep again, and here was Shae, in her room, slamming another door behind her.

“ _You_.” Shae pointed at her.

“What?” _What in the name of the gods could have happened?_

“You owe me so big Sansa.” Sansa had known the girl for years, and never once has she ever seen her remotely this angry. She was absolutely, _terrifyingly_ furious.

“Shae! What happened?”

“Mallory happened.” She spat.

 _Oh gods_. Sansa gathered a sheet around her and turned to face Shae, her legs hanging off the side of the bed. Shae paced the room, fuming. Her face was beet red. Sansa was afraid to ask, but she had to know. “Please Shae. Explain.”

She spun on her. “I went to get _your fucking_ shoes-“ She threw them at Sansa for effect. They flew past her head when she ducked. “- from _your fucking_ man’s room. And she was there when I opened the door. She saw the bed. The one that _you_ broke. Sandor without a _fucking_ shirt.”

Sansa’s hand flew to her mouth. “ _No_.”

“Yes Sansa. Yes. Mallory now thinks that _I’ve_ been fucking Sandor.”

“No. No no no no no no.” _Why?_ With everything else Sansa was going to have to deal with, why did this need to be happening right _now_? “What are we going to do?”

“What do you mean?” Shae glared at her.

“Well…” Sansa swallowed. “…we have to tell her that she’s wrong don’t we?”

“What?” Shae snapped. “No. Sansa its impossible. Do you want her to find out about you and him?”

“Of course not!”

Shae groaned. “If she doesn’t think its me, then she is going to want to find out who it is.”

Sansa shook her head. Shae was pacing the floor. Sansa didn’t know what to say.

It was a moment before Shae spoke again and when she did, she sounded…broken. “And when word gets back to Conall, because with Mallory’s mouth, you know it will… what then?”

“Oh.”

Shae scoffed at her, but otherwise, said nothing. She just continued to pace the floor.

“Can’t you tell him its not true? Does he not trust you?”

Shae was quiet suddenly. Sansa watched her brows knit together and she saw her swallow before she spoke. “Why should I have to explain a lie to him Sansa? Why…” Shae shrugged, all anger seemingly gone. All that was left was…disappointment? Exhaustion? Shae took another breath and continued. “Why am I in this situation at all?”

Sansa opened her mouth to retort but closed it again almost immediately. _Why indeed?_ “I’m sorry Shae.”

Shae just continued to shake her head. Sansa didn’t know what else to say. There was nothing to say, but- “I’m sorry.” Her voice was quieter than she expected it to be.

Shae just shrugged again and sighed loudly. It almost sounded like a sob. The sound hit Sansa in the chest as hard as a brick. When Shae left the room, the closed the door behind her quietly, and Sansa found herself wishing for another slam.

How she managed to humiliate and alienate her only friend was just beyond her comprehension at the moment. She sat there, feet dangling off the edge of the bed for was must have been a long time. Until there was a knock. Sandor’s knock.

“Little bird?”

Sansa still stared at the floor. “Hmm?” She wondered if he could even hear her.

“Are you ready for morning meal? Your family is in the hall, I’ve been told.”

“Oh.”

Sansa looked around her room. No Shae. No Malloy. She would have to get ready on her own.

When she came out of her room a short while later Sandor let out a bark of a laugh when he took in the sight of her.

“What?” She tucked her hair behind her ear. She only brushed it through, not bothering with a braid of any sort that Shae would usually help her with.

“What are you wearing?” Sandor asked, a smile still playing on his lips.

Sansa looked down at the old lumpy brown dress she managed to wrap herself in. It hung loose on her body and made her look thick around the arms and waist. She felt her forehead wrinkle when she looked back up at him. “Don’t laugh at me. It was the only thing I could tie myself.” She could see the way the burned side of his mouth twitched as he tried not to smile. “She’s furious with me.”

Sandor shrugged. “She’ll forgive you.”

Sansa could only hope. But then she had another thought. She grabbed his arm. “You aren’t angry with me, are you?”

Sandor did laugh then, but not cruelly, so she took it as a _no_. She felt herself relax, even if it was just a little bit, and she let go of his arm.

“You better get used to the sound of laughter, little bird. Once Mallory’s story makes its way around the castle, you’ll be hearing more of it with me at your back.”

Sansa sighed. She looked up at him then. Even with the new turn of events, she couldn’t forget about the night they shared. She felt her cheeks warm remembering all the things they’d done in the night, all the things they’d said. She peeked around his shoulder at the empty hallway behind him. Before she could second guess herself, she raised up on her toes and reached for him. He seemed to have the same thought, resting his hand on her hip, cupping the other around the back of her neck. She kissed him, just once, on the lips. But it still sent a flutter through her. He pulled away before she did and when her heels were back on the ground she tried to bite her smile away. He wasn’t as successful hiding his though. _The man I love._ And then she was smiling just as wide as him as she turned around and made for the great hall.

He certainly wasn’t wrong about the laughing. On the way to the hall, the people they passed from her own household, the servants and anyone else they passed were staring at Sandor next to her, smiling or sniggering as they did. _Why do they all find this so funny? So my shield and handmaid are sleeping together. Why is that funny?_ By the third time it happened, Sansa had to fight the urge to strike out and wipe the little smirk of the man’s face. And then she thought of it. _Mallory._ She not only spread word about their sleeping together - but the broken bed as well. _The bed that I took part in breaking_. Sansa grimaced and felt even worse for Shae. She immediately wanted to run and find her, beg her for her forgiveness, but they arrived at the hall in the same moment.

Robb and Roslin were seated with Gawen, all well into their meal. Sansa’s stomach fell to her feet. _Gawen._ Her head had been so full of thoughts of Sandor and their finally confessing their love to one another, and then so abruptly, Shae and her new damaged reputation. She hadn’t given a second thought to Gawen – laughing with him, sharing the lemon cake, dancing with him, his whisking her away from Ramsay, his feeble anger, his lackluster kisses – not another thought of him, not since Sandor pushed her into his room. She gulped down what felt like her heart in her throat and approached them at the table.

“My pardons, for being late.” She avoided Gawen’s eye as much as she could, focusing instead on the sideways look Roslin was giving her in the sack of a dress she had on.

“Not at all.” It was Gawen who spoke, but she still couldn’t look at him.

She sat across from him, next to Roslin, and stared down at the plate before her.

“And how are you feeling this morning?” Robb asked her, cutting into his rasher of bacon, seemingly blissfully unaware of the story floating around the castle.

Looking at the food turned her stomach so she picked a spot on the wall behind Robb’s head and answered him. “Quite well, thank you.”

Roslin picked up the conversation easily enough and Sansa found it in herself to nibble at a warm corner of brown bread. But too soon, Gawen turned his attentions toward her.

“Sansa. Could I speak to you?”

_Gods. He knows. He knows where I went after kissing him._

But she just nodded and followed along with him. He brought her to a distant window in the hall. He sat on the wide sill and gestured for her to join him. She did. He was silent for so long, staring out the window into the cold and snow that Sansa found herself speaking first. “Was there something you wanted to speak to me about?” He nodded. “Two things really.” He glanced behind them to where Sandor stood, far enough away, his face blank, his eyes staring uninterested at a chink in the stone wall. Sansa almost wanted to smile. _He sure knows how to make it look like he isn’t trying to listen._ Gawen went on. “I don’t know how much you would remember from last night…” She turned back toward him. “I remember everything Gawen.” _Gods. I got drunk I didn’t lose consciousness._

“Ah, of course.” He waited for a moment, apparently gathering his thoughts. “Well, I just wanted to apologize for my behavior. I shouldn’t have kissed you like that. Even though we are to be married.”

Sansa started shaking her head before he finished. “Gawen, if I didn’t want you to kiss me last night, you wouldn’t have. Believe me.”

He gave a small smile. “Still. It was…improper. And I apologize.”

 _If he thinks that chaste kiss was improper, what would he think about what I did after?_ Sansa’s face warmed remembering _how_ and _where_ Sandor had kissed her last night.

“That brings up my other thought.” He continued.

“What does?”

He looked away from her, out the window again. “Improper things…”

 _Buggering hells. He knows._ “Gawen.” She made herself say over the lump in her throat. “What is it?”

“It’s uh…hmmm…” He looked so uncomfortable, Sansa wanted to reach out to him, touch him on the arm maybe, to reassure him. But she didn’t. “I’ve heard tale of…Clegane here and your…handmaiden.”

“Oh.” Sansa hated the feeling of relief that washed over her. She glanced at Sandor. He was far enough away that Gawen wouldn’t think he could hear, but Sansa knew he could.

“Yes.” His brows knit together as they looked back at each other. “I just…wanted to make sure you were alright?”

 _What?_ “Me? What do you mean?”

He looked awkward again. As he should. _Why is he speaking to me about this?_ “I just don’t want you to feel, uncomfortable in any way. And, should this make you feel uncomfortable…well…”

“Well…what?” Sansa was sure that he could tell by her response that nothing of the sort would have made her feel uncomfortable. She could also tell that he didn’t know what to say just now. She sighed. “If it made me uncomfortable, would I what? Tell them they can’t be together? Banish them from my service?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t understand.”

Gawen opened his mouth and closed it again. He looked down and shook his head. “I’m sorry Sansa. I shouldn’t have said anything. It wasn’t my place.”

 _It certainly wasn’t._ But the look on his face told Sansa just how rude she had just been. She gritted her teeth and closed her eyes. “No. Gawen it’s alright. I can’t be cross with you for checking in on me. It’s only…” She bit her lip, trying to think of the words. “…who am I, to tell two people that they can’t be together?”

He nodded thoughtfully, but said nothing again. Sansa looked out the window and saw from the corner of her eye that he did the same. After a few moments, Sansa realized that the last thing she said was more about her and Sandor than anything else.

* * *

_Sandor_

It was just what he needed to see, upon being summoned by the king later on in the day. Mallory bouncing down the hall toward him. He thought of knocking her over, pushing her into the wall, tripping her as he passed. But he did his best to ignore her wry smile and faint giggle. That was until she spoke.

“Oh, Sandor?” He stopped in his tracks and turned slowly, looking her in the eye, but saying nothing. She had a sweet smile on her face and cocked her head at him. She bit her bottom lip before she spoke. “I’ve noticed that you’re in need of a new room for the rest of our stay. If you would like, I could offer you up my room with Shae. No need to continue sneaking around with her, now that _everyone_ knows.”

“Aye I’ve heard you haven’t been spending much time in your own bed.”

The smile faded from her face and she set her jaw. “At least I don’t go around breaking them.”

“No I’d imagine it’s easier for the likes of you when your knees are set firmly on the ground.” Mallory gasped and wheeled her arm back to hit him. Again, he caught her wrist before she could strike. He yanked her close him, bringing down his face to meet hers. It was with a cruel whisper between his teeth that he spoke. “Don’t play this game with me girl. You will lose. Each and every _fucking_ time.”

Sandor had never been so happy to see the look of fear in a pretty girl’s face. The thought made him smirk, which he knew only made him look all the more intimidating. Her mouth went wide. “Close your mouth Mal. Your greenboy is not here.” He threw her hand away and stalked off before she could utter another half-assed insult.

Sandor turned the corner and made his way to the king. His guards smirked at Sandor before admitting him into Robb’s makeshift solar.

“Ah, Clegane.”

“Your grace.”

“Just a moment.” Robb was seated behind a desk, writing a letter it seemed. He looked up when Sandor entered, but finished writing a line before speaking to him again.

“I’m sure you know why I’ve called you in.” Sandor remained silent. He could see how uncomfortable his grace was, and Sandor was in no mood to make him feel any better about it. “Roslin is speaking to Shae.” Sandor tried not to roll his eyes. Both girls knew the truth. _So she got off easy then._

Robb seemed to be waiting for some word from Sandor. _An apology?_ Whatever he wanted, Sandor wouldn’t be giving it. He was here under the king’s command after all.

_Out with it man. Let’s be done with this farce._

Robb sighed and put his quill down on the desk. “I have to say, I do not think very highly of this behavior. What you do on your own time is none of my business...”

“Hmm.” Sandor couldn’t help the half-laugh that sounded in his throat.

Robb gave him an exasperated look before continuing. “But I should like to think that you wouldn’t choose someone so close to Sansa.”

Sandor couldn’t help himself. “How does my choice in a woman concern you, your grace?” He asked, not speaking of Shae in the slightest.

“Not with _me_. It has to do with my sister.” Sandor suppressed a laugh. _More than you know, boy._ “I know its…awkward Clegane, but I have to say it. As her sworn shield, I expect you to have a standard to uphold. You are here for her.“ _Truer words have never been said_. “I would hate for her to feel…uncomfortable under your protection.”

“Why would she ever feel uncomfortable?”

“Because of _your_ relationship with _her_ best friend.” Robb sighed again, and Sandor bit his tongue. “I would have hoped that this…information could have stayed away from Sansa’s ears, but I suppose that is not possible with this Mallory running about.” Robb shook his head. _At least he has some sense._ “I know I can’t tell you that you cannot…continue this relationship.” He looked at Sandor, perhaps expecting him to say that he had already ended it? Sandor did nothing of the sort. “But I would just advise you to be more discreet, especially when it comes to Sansa’s knowledge of the matter.”

After a moment, he gave him a curt nod.

“Roslin has seen to it that you have another room for the remainder of the stay.”

Sandor ground his teeth together. _On the complete opposite side of the castle from Shae_ and _Sansa most likely_. “Thank you, your grace.”

“Good day Clegane.”

Part of him wanted to shake the king. _Your little wife and your baby brother figured it out. How thick do you have to be not to see it?_ But he bit his tongue again. The king’s ignorance on this matter was the only reason his head still remained on his shoulders.

“Your grace.” He bent his head before heading out the door.

If there was ever a way he could get Mallory back for this, Sandor was determined to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooooo......
> 
> Ok. So. Next chapter we will be leaving Deepwood. I hope that it will be longer, but I will not be able to post for a while. First day of school is Thursday and I am nowhere near ready. And on Friday, I'm going to LA for my cousin's wedding. Then running back for school and the craziness that is my new adult life and its weird and stressful and I just want to cry and write about some Sansan.
> 
> So, I had a thought...
> 
> I know that there will be a part two with this story once it is over, but I am not ready to start that as soon as I finish this. Instead, I would like to do some shorter Sansan fics. I have one idea in mind and I started drafting, just the tiniest bit. Its not going to be anywhere near as massive as this beast, but it is going to be cool.
> 
> On another note... I would love to hear any suggestions, requests or prompts from any of you on another Sansan situation to write. I think it would be really fun. If anyone has any ideas, leave them in the comments and I would love to write something from your prompts! After I finish this monster of course. 
> 
> Okay. I'll be around for comments. But I won't be able to post for a bit. I'm sorry. Don't hate me.


	82. Chapter 82

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS TOOK ME TWO DAYS. I GOT NO WORK DONE FOR MY REAL LIFE JOB. I SPOKE TO NO ONE. 
> 
> TWO DAYS.
> 
> You are welcome. But also, I'm sorry. Because you aren't going to be happy.
> 
> oh and don't be picky if you see typos.

_Roslin_

“She what?!”

Robb nodded at her, his eyes closed. “Yes, apparently she has been sleeping with Sandor for some weeks now.”

“Shae? Sansa’s handmaiden.”

Robb sat heavily in his chair. “The very one.”

On her way to Robb’s solar, Roslin heard a few people mentioning the Hound in the hall. She heard someone say something about Sansa. She was prepared for the worst. Prepared for everyone to have found out about Sansa and Sandor.

“I’m going to speak to Clegane.”

“You are?” Roslin could hear her heart throbbing in her ears as she sat across from her husband.

“Mmmm.” It was clearly something that he wasn’t looking forward to, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. _But why did he ask me here about this?_

The answer came in just that moment. Robb moved his hand from his face and looked her straight in the eye. “Do you think you might be able to talk to Shae?”

Roslin felt her eyes widen. “Me?”

Robb bent his head toward her. “Yes.”

“Why? I mean… what would I say?”

Robb shook his head. “I have to tell Clegane how letting this get out, having Sansa find out, was just severely inappropriate. So, something similar, I suppose.” Roslin nodded, lifting the cup of tea to her lips, hoping to hide any signs of the truth on her face. Robb sighed. “It’s a shame really. The two people closest to Sansa having an affair.” He shook his head again. “Actions such as these are truly unfitting for an innocent maiden to hear about.”

The tea caught in Roslin’s throat and she coughed, nearly sputtering the liquid into her husband’s face. She managed to put the cup down as she continued coughing, Robb jumping out of his chair to assist her. She waved him off as she caught her breath.

“Are you alright?” His face was a mask of concern.

She nodded and was finally able to clear her throat. _Sansa… a maiden. By the seven, Robb really doesn’t have a clue._ “I’m fine, sorry. It was too hot.”

Robb sighed again. He reached forward and grabbed her hand that was on the table.

“I have to say, the Glover’s hospitality is beyond compare, but I just can’t wait to get you and the little ones back home.”

Roslin nodded in agreement, rubbing the back of his hand with her thumb. _Poor Robb. He is so completely clueless._

A short while later, after miraculously getting the twins down for a nap at the same time, Roslin had Shae sent to her chambers. Shae looked absolutely furious, her jaw set as if it were stone.

“Shae.” She addressed her in her most queenly voice. “Thank you for coming.”

“I was summoned by the queen. Why are you thanking me… your grace?”

Roslin’s eyes shifted to the guard at the door, who seemed to catch her hint, leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

When they were finally alone, Roslin rushed toward her. She grabbed for her wrists and tightened her grip on the girl. “Will you _please_ tell me what is happening?”

Shae’s hard face softened ever so slightly. Instead of looking angry, she just looked hurt. Shae told her everything. How she had heard Sansa and Sandor together last night. How she went to wake them in the early morning to help them. How she and Sandor had been caught by none other than Mallory.

“My gods. Shae.” She grabbed for her hands again. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that you are caught in the middle of this.”

Shae rolled her eyes and slipped her hands away. “Being caught in the middle is nothing new. It’s being blamed for _her_ actions that is bothering me so much.”

Roslin rested her hand under her chin, tapping her fingers along the side of her cheek. “You have every right to be angry. I can’t imagine how it must feel.”

“I’m not going to tell anyone the truth. You don’t need to worry.”

“I wasn’t-“

“You were. And it’s alright.” She shook her head. “If you have nothing else to say, then I would like to go now.”

Roslin racked her brain for a moment, not thinking of any way to hold her there.

“Of course, Shae. You may go.”

And so she did.

Roslin sat on the upholstered chair in a huff and put her chin in her hands. _What a bloody mess._

* * *

 

_Sansa_

She’d gone most of the day trying to avoid Gawen after that. She couldn’t even look at him.

_Gods why does he have to be so perfect? Why can’t he be awful like Ramsay so I wouldn’t feel so horrible about breaking his heart?_

The more she thought about it, the more obvious it was.

_I can’t marry him._

_I have to tell him._

But what could she possibly say or do to end their betrothal? A thousand lies ran through her head.

Tell them that she made a mistake. Tell them that she could never leave Winterfell. Tell them she was allergic to the damn mustiness of the castle! But the worst of all _… tell them I’m not a maiden. That I was indeed wedded_ and _bedded by Tyrion Lannister._ But she quickly waved that away and felt shameful for even thinking on it. Not just for Shae’s sake, but for that of her dead husband who after trying once to touch her, never tried again.

After a dinner that clearly was awkward and uncomfortable for everyone, even with Roslin’s attempts at normalcy, Sansa ran straight to the guest chambers, Sandor on her heels.

He walked her to her door as he usually would, but there were others moving about in the hallway. When she was sure they were out of earshot she whispered to him. “Come back to me. Later.” He blinked at her. “Please.”

He gave her one nod before turning on his heel for his new room.

It felt like hours before the hall turned silent. Sansa spent the time undressing, brushing her hair, pacing the floor, poking at the fire, until finally, she heard Sandor’s telltale swift double knock on her door. She pulled him inside before he even realized she had opened the door. His mouth was on hers in the next second. Her fingers pulling at his breeches, his slipping her robe from her shoulders.

 

Everyone had seemed to melancholy all day, she couldn’t help the jape that slipped from her mouth as she pulled away from his mouth, only briefly. “I heard you’ve been sleeping around behind my back, _Ser_.”

She expected he might laugh. Maybe smirk like he tended to do when they were alone. Say something that might make her blush and kiss her again. But he did none of those things. He turned his head away from her, a growl of frustration stuck in his throat, and he let go of her.

“I’m sorry.” She felt her cheeks warm, but for a completely different reason now. “That was stupid of me.”

He had turned away toward the fire. “Hmm.” He seemed to agree. He seemed almost angry. Disinterested to be sure.

She had to change the subject. “Well…about last night…” She reached for him, her hand on his shoulder, trying to turn him around. She was unsuccessful. _What is wrong with him!_ She pulled at his shoulder. “What do we do now?”

Sandor finally turned around, but he took a step back. He ran a hand over the back of his neck, sighing deeply. “I don’t know Sansa.”

“You think I should still get married?” She said it with a laugh in her throat, meaning it as a jape. She said it to get some kind of reaction out of him. But he just shrugged. The movement was so casual that she wanted to punch him. “How? How could you think that?”

He shrugged again before he spoke, shaking his head, his words as blunt as a tourney sword. “I can’t marry you.”

Sansa blinked. She hadn’t expected him to say it. But of course he knew what was on her mind. He knew her too well. She knew it was true, but hearing it out loud, hearing it from his own lips, felt a bit like rejection. _Don’t be ridiculous. He is only speaking the awful truth, like always._ But she felt that she had to push, just a little further. “You…you have land. A title.”

He scoffed at that, effectively furthering the budding feeling of humiliation within her. “A landed knight, for the Princess of Winterfell. Sansa, you are smarter than that.”

Sansa sighed, ignoring the slight. “Well...what are we supposed to do?

“I don’t know.” Sansa felt her shoulders slump. For some reason, she thought he might have had an idea. Some way to figure out how they could be together. But it seems he was just as lost as she was. Still, he didn’t have to be so cruel about it. Sansa started to feel her lip quiver. She tried to make it stop, but when she spoke, it only made it worse. “Did something happen? Something else I mean?” She licked her lips, suddenly terribly nervous in front of the man she loved. “I don’t understand why you are being so cold to me.”

His eyes shifted to the side and he sighed again. “Nothing happened little bird.”

“Then why are you acting this way?” She wrapped her arms around herself, as if she could stop herself from trembling. He seemed to notice and he sighed again.

“I don’t know what we should do Sansa.” He took a step forward toward her. “I don’t rightly care, either.” He grabbed her shoulders and crushed her into his chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and murmured into her hair. “So long as they don’t take me away from you.”

Sansa felt a near sob reach her throat. But whether she willed it away or it just got stuck with how tightly he held her, she did not know. Sansa struggled away from him so she could look up at him. His eyes searched hers for a moment before he pressed his lips hard against hers, effectively silencing any and all conversation for the rest of the evening.

 

 

The day to leave for Winterfell couldn’t come soon enough. But it finally did.

They still had not come to any solution. They hadn’t thought of anything to do, how to stop the wedding. It felt horribly irresponsible, but like Sandor, she didn’t really care. She just wanted to go home. She knew that wishing for home also meant that her wedding day would come sooner, but she didn’t want to spend another day at Deepwood. She wanted to be back in her room. She wanted to be in Sandor’s bed. She wanted to see her godswood. The hot springs. Her little brother and his wolf. Even mother.

After that first night, they hadn’t spoken about any ideas or plans, any thoughts of preventing her upcoming wedding to Gawen. She felt so guilty, still leading him on, knowing that in the end, she would not be able to marry him. But they left to Winterfell together anyway.

At the last minute, Erena had decided to come with the party too, rather than coming to meet them for the wedding later on. Sansa didn’t mind. She hoped the girl would be a sufficient enough distraction for Gawen on the road. Unfortunately though, Erena wasn’t the only one who would join them.

“All set, Princess?” She felt a cold hand on her shoulder. “Looks like we’ll have some time together on the road after all. Just like we were supposed to on the way to King’s Landing.” Sansa gave Ramsay a half smile. His sickly sweet smile with his wormy wet lips was big enough for the both of them. “I think father, our men and I will take your brother up on his offer of staying at Winterfell until after your wedding! Seems a shame to go all the way home to the Dreadfort when we’d only be coming back shortly after hmm?”

She went to shrug him away, but his hand was removed before she could react.

“Take your paws off the Princess, bastard.”

“Oh. I mean no harm, dog. Princess Sansa knows that!” He smiled at her, his eyes wide. She gave him a half, tight-lipped smile and a quick curt nod. “See?” Ramsay shrugged as he backed away, before he slapped a hand on Sandor’s shoulder. Sansa watched Sandor’s entire body tense, as tight as a bowstring. She had to hold herself back from reaching out to him, to calm him. But Ramsay moved his hand. “She’s all yours then dog, isn’t she?” He raised his eyebrows in a knowing manner and turned away to find his own horse.

Once he was out of earshot, Sansa felt more than noticed Sandor relaxing, even if it was just a little bit. She looked up at him. “What was that about?”

“No idea.” Even though Sansa couldn’t see where Ramsay went off to, Sandor still kept his eyes in the direction to which he disappeared. Their horses were brought to them then and Sandor took advantage of the situation.

He swept the sides of her cloak out of the way and wrapped his hands around her middle. When he lifted her, he let her slip a little so that his hands were higher than they had any right to be. His thumbs brushed the underside of her breasts and even through all of her layers, Sansa could feel the warmth of his touch. The warmth spread to her neck and up to her cheeks as he settled her onto her horse. His familiar smirk graced his lips and Sansa fought the urge to jump right down off the horse and tackle him right then and there. A bit too slowly, Sandor let go of her, his fingers trailing along her sides.

Over the past few days, they somehow managed to spend every night together in his new room. But they rarely spoke and she never slept there. As hard as it was to leave him, she found herself walking back to the room she was supposed to stay in. Since that night, they never said anything about love again. She didn’t know why. Maybe it was just the stress of everything. But for some reason, she felt that she had to tell him again, even though he already knew. She had to be with him tonight.

“Sansa!”

She turned her head and Gawen and Erena were trotting up to her, already on horseback. Sandor let go of her and went to get on Stranger. She hoped it didn’t really happen and that it was only her imagination; that Gawen squinted slightly at their exchange before he got to her.

“You ready?” Erena smiled at her and she nodded, even though she didn’t know what she was actually agreeing to.

They seemed to be moving faster than when they came to Deepwood. She wondered if Robb was eager to get home as well. Sansa hadn’t seen Roslin or Robb for most of the day. For some reason, she had gotten stuck in between Ramsay and Gawen for a major percentage of the ride.

The wind found them, even through the thickness of the trees. Sansa kept her hood tight around her face, constantly wishing that she could share Stranger’s back with Sandor. She closed her eyes, ignoring whatever the two men on either side of her talked about, imagining the feeling of his arms wrapped tightly around her, his broad, strong chest warm against her back. She could hardly wait to get off her horse and find a way to be alone with him tonight.

By the time they settled down to camp, the trees had already thinned out a great deal. After she had a bite to eat, Sansa stood with Shae, watching as their tent was put together for the night. Shae hadn’t spoken much to her over the last few days. She was there for her to do her duties. Sansa hoped that it was only because Mallory was always there. But she didn’t talk to her like she used to only just a few days ago.

Sandor pitched his own tent next to theirs. She watched him and noticed what he was doing. The tents were almost right on top of each other, the extra canvas pooling on the ground, overlapping. In the dark, Sansa knew she would be able to sneak easily over to his without even stepping out of her tent and into the night. She covered her mouth with her glove to hide her smile. When it was ready, they thanked the men and went inside. Shae took the pallet on the other side of the tent, farthest away from Sandor’s tent. Sansa settled herself on her own pallet and took off her cloak, the tent already warm from the burning coals in the brazier. Shae already curled herself up on her pallet, her back to Sansa. She had half a mind to say something to her, but she could barely keep still with the anticipation running through her.

Sansa listened to the sound of the camp settling around her waiting for the perfect moment. As it got darker, quieter, she heard Sandor go into his tent. She heard his sword belt drop to the ground, followed by his heavy padded leather jerkin. She heard him lay down heavily on his bedroll and sigh. The sound sent chills up her spine and Sansa realized that a similar sound rumbled in her own throat.

“Gods, just go over there already.” Shae bolted up off of her pallet and wrapped her cloak tightly around herself. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

Sansa knew she should follow after her, but she knew Shae. There was nothing she could say to bring her back just yet. Sansa sighed before slipping over the side of her pallet. She crouched down at the edge of the tent and gathered the fabric in her fists. She reached further and found where his began. She shook her head, almost ashamed of herself. _So desperate. And I couldn’t care less._ She ducked her head underneath and got on her hands and knees and crawled. It only took a second and her head was in his tent. Only then, seeing her hands on the frozen grass, her hair falling down around her, did she realize how ridiculous she was acting. She looked up to find him, slowly, feeling the red spread across her cheeks. The first thing she saw was his feet, still clad in his boots. She followed his legs to the right, up his chest until she saw his face.

He laid there, looking at her a smirk on his lips, his arms underneath his head, propping it up. “I wasn’t sure you’d actually do it.” He chuckled lightly as she pulled her legs into the safety of his tent.

Seeing him there, she found her courage again. She went on crawling up toward him until her hands were on either side of his head and she hovered closely over his face. He hadn’t moved to touch her with his hands, only his lips. She shivered when his mouth found her throat, but it wasn’t just from his touch. “It’s so cold.” She whispered.

“Mmm. Better than a fire in here. Again.” His eyes flashed down, and she knew he was making a reference to his burned leg.

She moved her lips across his. “Warm me up, then.”

His arms moved from under his head to around her back, working quickly and expertly on the fastenings of her modest dress. Somehow they managed to slip it off, but when she went to pull of her shift, a thick layer of fabric that benefitted her in the cold but did nothing to help her in this situation, he stopped her.

“Too cold.”

Sansa sighed, knowing he was right. He turned her over until he was on top of her and pressed her into the ground. It was cold and hard beneath the bedroll, but the man on top of her was enough to make her quickly forget any discomfort. “I missed you.” He kissed her as an answer as if to stop her from talking. But she wasn’t finished. She had one more thing to say. She left his mouth and traced kisses up the burned side of his face, her lips where his ear should have been and she whispered again. “I love you.”

She felt his chest rise and fall above her as he sighed. He was quieter when he responded, she barely even heard it. “Love you.” He muttered into her ear. Even though he didn’t say it with the same feeling he did the other night, she still knew it was true. His hands slipped under her shift, raising it high on her hips. She squirmed against him as he pulled at the ties on the side of her small clothes. She reached for his breeches, and together they managed to get them down just far enough.

She missed the feeling of her bare chest against his, her fingers gripping into the skin of his back, but she figured this would have to do. He raised her shift a little higher and she pushed her small clothes down, still halfway on, tied around her right thigh. His hand was warm as he searched up higher under her shift. He found what he was looking for and it took everything in Sansa not to cry out when he pinched her.

The last time she had to hold back so much was when her handmaidens were at her door in the morning. She knew that if she could hear Sandor lay down in the tent next to her, albeit being very close to hers, then someone would be bound to hear her moans of pleasure that typically escaped her lips. Sandor seemed to notice this too. He kept his body close to hers as he moved inside of her, keeping her warm, but keeping the movement to a minimum. It didn’t take long for her to get close, and too quickly, she had to bite down hard on her lip to quiet herself again.

Sandor’s grip tightened around her and she could tell that he was close. But he pulled out of her then, spilling himself on her stomach. Sansa froze as he panted over her, regaining his composure. He had never done _that_ before.

When he caught his breath, he collapsed next to her. Sansa wiped her belly clean with her shift, not knowing what else to do. He was quiet, and she could tell that he was waiting for her to ask.

And so she did. “Why did you do that?”

“Can’t be too careful. Not anymore.”

She leaned up on her elbow and peered at him in the darkness. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Sandor groaned and rolled his eyes. _He rolled his eyes_.

“Can’t risk it anymore Sansa.”

She knew what he meant. He didn’t want to put a baby in her. Not when he couldn’t trust her with not drinking the moontea like last time. Soon, he fell asleep next to her, and Sansa crawled her way back to her own tent.

The next two days were the same. The party rode hard from dawn to dusk. Shae remained cool toward Sansa. Sansa visited with Roslin and the babies, talked with Gawen and Erena and tried, usually unsuccessfully, to avoid Ramsay. No matter where she was, Sandor stayed close. During the nights, most of all.

Shae still left the tent, not saying anything. Sansa didn’t ask her where she went and Shae didn’t tell her. It was still disconcerting to Sansa, that even though she and Sandor loved each other, they had no plans for the future. No thoughts about how to stop this wedding from happening. He still pulled out of her too. They still barely spoke. And Sansa couldn’t find it in herself to think on it too much, not with the way she was spending her nights. Even though they didn’t actually sleep together, she supposed it would have to be enough for now. Sansa couldn’t help herself. She _needed_ this. She needed _him_. Their couplings in the night were quick, almost frantic. It felt like something was going to happen. Something…bad. But she couldn’t let herself think on it, especially when his mouth was on hers.

 

 

When the familiar surrounding hills of Winterfell came into view Sansa felt equal parts relief and dread. Shae rode up to her then. “May I take your leave to Winter Town, Princess?”

“Of course, Shae. Tell him hello for me please.” But Shae didn’t wait for her to finish. She kicked her heels into her horse and sped off toward Conall.

Roslin rode up to her side then as Sansa watched Shae disappear. “She’ll forgive you Sansa. Just as soon as everyone forgets about what… happened.”

“You’ve heard then?”

Roslin looked around her shoulder. “Robb had me _talk to her_ about it. It was awful.”

Sansa closed her eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

“No. Roslin. I’m sorry. I…” She looked around and saw that they were for the most part, alone. “I told you I wouldn’t… be with him anymore. But I… I-“

“I know.” Roslin reached out, she was close enough to reach Sansa’s hand and she let her grip onto it. “It’s alright Sansa.”

“But it’s not. Nothing about this is alright. I just don’t know what to do.”

Roslin shook her head. She looked at Sansa with absolute pity and it turned her stomach. “Sansa. I don’t know what to say.”

Sansa closed her eyes again and pulled her hand away. No one could help her or make her feel any better, she realized that now. Not even Sandor. She felt completely and utterly alone. And so she put her heels into her horse and galloped off toward home on her own. At least she thought she was, until she heard the familiar sound of Stranger’s hooves in the hard ground behind her. She didn’t look back, he didn’t ride any closer to her and soon Winterfell finally came into view.

 

 

Rickon was the first one she saw as she entered the gates. She could hardly wait for her horse to stop to fling herself to the ground and into her baby brother’s arms.

He laughed in her ear. “Hi Sansa.” Sansa gripped onto him harder, noting how long his hair had grown already and that he seemed to be taller. “Sansa? What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

Sansa laughed lightly. “I don’t know. I just missed you little brother.”

Rickon smiled sadly when she pulled away from him. “I missed you too.”

Lady Catelyn stood next to him and Sansa was wrapped in another warm hug as Rickon and Shaggy welcomed Sandor behind her.

Her mother pulled back and brushed a stray hair out of Sansa’s eyes. “How are you Sansa?”

She felt herself shrug. _Absolutely miserable. Scared. Completely torn. Lonely._ “I’m fine mother. I just missed being home.”

To her credit, Catelyn looked unconvinced. But there was no time to think on it. Robb, Roslin, Gawen, Erena, Ramsay, Lord Bolton and the rest of the party entered through the gates. Once the family was all reunited, Sansa introduced Erena to her mother and Rickon.

“Nice to meet you.” That was all Rickon offered Erena before he turned his attention to Gawen where he stood next to Sansa. “So you’re going to marry my sister?”

“Rickon!” Sansa and her mother both shouted though clenched teeth.

Erena laughed and Gawen smiled. “Hello again, My Prince. And I certainly am.”

Rickon didn’t miss a beat. “And do you love her?”

“Rickon!” Sansa nearly shouted now.

Gawen put a hand on Sansa’s shoulder and laughed lightly. “It’s alright.” He took a step toward Rickon and lowered his head, as if the two of them were in a private conversation. “I’m afraid that is between me and your lovely sister.”

Rickon was unmoved. Sansa chanced a glance at Sandor, but he was looking straight ahead at no one. At nothing.

“Come inside Ser Gawen, Lady Erena.” Catelyn gestured toward the doors of the great hall. “Welcome to Winterfell.”

They ate with their guests that evening. Sansa sat in between Gawen and Erena and she felt like she was going to lose her mind. She wanted to go to her room. She wanted to be alone with Sandor. She _needed_ to talk to him.

“So, we’ve worked it out while you were away…” Catelyn began a huge smile playing at her lips. “And I believe we will be all set for your wedding in about two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” Sansa hoped she didn’t sound as panicked as she felt.

“Fantastic news. Isn’t that wonderful Sansa?” Gawen looked at her. She knew her eyes were wide as anything, but she hoped she covered it up with a big enough smile.

“I’ve made arrangements to have the seamstress to see you tomorrow. She’ll get started on your gown right away…” Catelyn went on discussing the plans of the wedding. The conversation was led by her and Erena, Gawen and Robb chiming in here and there. Sansa looked up to find Roslin’s eyes on her, looking at her with pity again. Sansa clenched her teeth and looked away, finding her wine cup full and she brought it to her lips. After her second glass, all this thought of a wedding, of family, of love, Sansa couldn’t help the words that flew from her mouth.

“How goes the search for my sister?”

She realized that she must have interrupted her mother. “Arya?”

Sansa narrowed her eyes at her. “Yes. Arya. I know we’ve all but given up on Bran, but how about my little sister? What about her?” She tried to ignore the fact that her mother’s chin seemed to tremble as she looked down at her hands.

“We haven’t heard any word of her Sansa. Still.” She looked up again. “You know… you know I would have told you first thing, had we heard of her whereabouts while you were gone.”

Sansa swallowed another sip of her wine and nodded. “And Jon. Will he be coming to my wedding, Robb?”

Robb looked taken aback, like he clearly wasn’t expecting such a question. “Uh… No, Sansa I should think not.”

“And why wouldn’t he be here? He is my brother is he not?”

“Of course… but-“

“And if two of my five siblings are still missing, and only two are here with me, why would I not want the third with me on the most special of occasions?”

“Sansa I don’t think-“ Robb started, but she cut him off.

“Did anyone think to invite him? Mother? Did you include my brother in the list of invitations you sent out?” No one said anything, least of all her mother. “Fine. I shall do it myself in the morning.” She took another sip of her wine.

“There will be no need Sansa.” Robb said, his voice a bit harsh. “I will see that Maester Luwin sends him one, although, you shouldn’t expect him to come. You know how busy he must be. How much he has to deal with.”

Sansa said nothing. She just kept her back straight and her eyes on her plate.

“Sansa-“ She felt a small hand on her arm. “I am quite tired. Could you show me to my room, please?”

Sansa thought it was a bit strange for Erena to ask that of her, but with the way she raised her eyebrows, Sansa knew she had something to speak to her about.

“Of course.”

The rest of the conversation started up slowly and awkwardly as they left the table. Erena wrapped her arm through Sansa’s after they were dressed in their cloaks. She glanced back toward Sandor, and Sansa sensed that she wanted to be alone.

“Oh.” Sansa turned to look at him. “Sandor, you can take your leave for the evening. I will see you later.”

He just bent his head toward her, turned and left. She hoped he knew what she meant; that she really did intend to see him later tonight.

The doors of the great hall were opened for them and they stepped out into the night in the direction of the guest house. They hurried through the cold wind and quickly found themselves at the entrance of the guest chambers. Sansa knew Erena had stopped at her room before, so she let the girl lead her there. It wasn’t until they got to the door that Erena said anything.

“Is everything alright Sansa? I…I’ve never seen you…act like that.”

Sansa closed her eyes. “Erena I’m sorry. I’ve acted to horribly, I don’t know what came over me.”

“No!” Erena reached out and grabbed her hands. “Don’t apologize. You’re just…worried about your sister. Your brother. No one can blame you for that. I can’t even imagine…” She trailed off.

Sansa sighed. “Still. It was rude of me to act that way, especially in front of all of you.”

Erena shook her head. “It was nothing Sansa.” She bit her lip and Sansa knew that wasn’t why she asked her to come with her.

“Something’s wrong.” Sansa said. It wasn’t a question.

“Um… no. Not wrong, really.” She sighed. “I wouldn’t have made you come outside, its just…” She trailed off, running a hand over her hair to smooth it.

“Erena, what is it?” Sansa asked, suddenly nervous for what could possibly be so important.

Erena bit her lip and looked up at her with sad eyes. “I think Ramsay is going to ask my father for my hand.”

 _What?_ “Erena. _No._ You can’t marry him.” Now that Sansa thought on it, Ramsay was sitting next to her during the evening meal. She didn’t pay close attention to anything that night, but she was sure Ramsay must have done or said something to make Erena think this way.

She just shrugged and laughed nervously. “I don’t really have a choice in the matter I’m afraid.”

“But… can’t you talk to your father? Surely if he knew how uncomfortable you were with this, he wouldn’t make you marry him.”

“Actually Sansa, I think he still would.” Sansa’s shoulders slumped. She didn’t know what to say. “It’s alright, I suppose. He isn’t _all that bad_ …” If what Erena said was true, that she had no choice in the matter, then she didn’t want to make it worse for Erena by vehemently disagreeing with her. So she let her continue. “We can’t be too picky.” She smiled. “You got lucky, with a man like Gawen. He’s… he’s…”

“Perfect.” Sansa finished for her.

Erena nodded, somewhat sadly. But then she smiled again. “If only Rickon were a little older.”

Sansa couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips and just as soon, Erena was doubled over in bells of laughter too.

“But, Erena…Gawen doesn’t like Ramsay. He doesn’t trust him. I know he doesn’t.”

Erena squinted at her. “Really?”

Sansa nodded. “Really. I don’t think he would allow your father to give you to him.” The girl shrugged again. “If you are nervous to speak to him about it, I’m sure I could. Eventually anyway.”

When Sansa walked back to the keep alone, she thought of how wrong it was. _Why should Erena be forced to marry someone she doesn’t like? Why is it alright that she has learned to accept it?_ With all the questions running through her mind, all she wanted to do was speak to Sandor. Now that the wedding plans were seemingly set into motion, then she knew they needed to figure out some way to stop it.

When Sandor didn’t come to her room, she started pacing. When the sounds of the castle disappeared for the night, she set off for his room, thinking that he must be waiting for her. She knocked quietly, expecting to hear the sounds of his approach. But there was nothing. She knocked harder and waited still nothing. She tried the door and found that it was barred. It’s alright, she tried to convince herself. He didn’t get much sleep over the trip. I’m sure he just fell asleep while he waited for me. She considered knocking again, louder, but thought better on it. Not only would she succeed in waking him up, but also the rest of the hallway, she was sure. She meandered her way back to her room, her head hung low, knowing that she wouldn’t be sleeping well tonight. She closed her eyes, thinking of the only plan she had in mind, and she held onto the thought as tightly as she could, hoping her thoughtfulness might turn Sandor back to normal again.

 

 

“You look awful.” The unsympathetic face of Shae was the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes in the morning.

Sansa blinked herself awake. “I didn’t get much sleep.” Her hoarse voice proved her point. Sansa didn’t say she woke herself up in the middle of the night screaming from her nightmares. She figured Shae might have understood that, if she heard her in the night or not.

She sat up as the three girls busied around her room.

“Hello Anna.”

The young girl smiled at her. “Hello Princess. How did you enjoy your trip?”

Sansa sighed. “Oh it was just lovely.”

Shae’s eyes darted toward her, and Sansa knew that she was the only one who understood her sarcasm.

“No one loved our trip more than Shae.” Mallory squeaked out. It was barely above a whisper, but they all heard it.

“That’s it.” Shae said, dropping the heap of clothes she was holding to the floor. She made to step over them, in Mal’s direction.

“ _Mallory._ Anna. If you could leave Shae and I for a moment please.”

Shae, thankfully, froze in her tracks. Mallory’s eyes widened and she looked thankful that Sansa had interrupted Shae’s actions. The two girls scurried out of the room and Sansa could see a smile on Anna’s lips.

Shae still hadn’t turned around. “You should have let me take her. She deserves it.”

“I know she does. And we all would have been better off for it, I’m sure.” Shae hadn’t moved, her fists were still at her sides. “Shae. Please. We need to talk about this.” Sansa watched her shoulders rise and fall before she reluctantly turned around to face her. She looked her in the eye, but made no move to come closer. Sansa tried to swallow her nerves away. “How is Conall?”

“Fine.”

“Did you get a chance to talk to him about-“

“Yes.” She cut her off.

Sansa just nodded. “Good. I’m glad.” Shae crossed her arms and looked away. “Shae. I’m _so sorry_.”

Shae closed her eyes, her jaw clenched. “I’m sorry for everything I’ve put you through. You don’t deserve to be treated this way. You’ve…you’ve taken every fall for me. Lied for me. Covered up for me. I should have never expected you to do that. I feel so awful about everything. Please.” Sansa wrung her hands around the blanket that she held in front of her. “Please could you ever find it in yourself to forgive me?”

Shae let out a slow, soft breath and shook her head. Sansa’s breath caught in her throat, thinking that Shae was denying her request of forgiveness. But luckily, that was not the case. Shae opened her eyes and rushed over to her. She sat next to her on the bed and grabbed at her hands.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so short with you Sansa. I’ve been horrible.”

Sansa shook her head. “You’ve had every right to be.”

“No. I wasn’t fair to you.”

“And I wasn’t fair to you. Not at all!”

“It’s fine Sansa. I…There is nothing to forgive.” Sansa knew that wasn’t true, but she was just happy Shae was talking to her again. “Are we alright now?” Shae asked her. “Can everything go back to the way it was, please?”

“Of course! Shae, I missed you so much!”

Shae nodded. “And I’ve missed you. I…I have so much to tell you.”

“You do?” Shae nodded again. “Please, tell me.” Sansa felt herself grip onto Shae’s hands just a little tighter.

“It’s just… Conall. He’s…” She seemed reluctant to say what she wanted to. Sansa gave her a moment to get her thoughts in order, to gain the courage to say whatever it was she seemed to be so afraid to tell her. Shae looked up at her then. “He told me he loved me.”

“Shae!” A wide grin spread across Sansa’s mouth. “That’s fantastic news!”

Shae gave her a wobbly smile. “It… it is. Isn’t it?”

“Of course. But Shae I don’t understand. Why do you look so upset? What’s wrong?”

Shae shrugged. “I…I can’t be with him Sansa.”

“Why?”

Shae didn’t answer her. “What’s even worse…I am pretty sure he wants to marry me.”

“Shae!” She grabbed her friend’s hands. “That is just wonderful!”

“It should be, right?”

“It _is_! Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because we are going to live in Deepwood. And Conall lives here. In Winter Town.”

“Oh.” Sansa froze. _Of course. How could I be so stupid?_

“Yes. I can’t very well live a four days ride from my husband, if he is to be my husband in truth.”

“Well, I don’t truly plan on marrying Gawen.”

Shae squinted at her. “Sansa, what do you have planned?”

Sansa racked her brain, trying to think of something. She didn’t want to bother Shae again with her own worries. “It doesn’t matter now. What matters is that Conall wants to marry you.” She made herself smile. “And you should be happy about that, not sad.”

“But, that would mean I would have to leave you.” Sansa nodded in agreement. “How can I leave you? After everything you’ve done for me? You are my only friend Sansa. How could I live so far from you?”

It made Sansa feel ill, the way Shae was tearing herself apart. “You are my truest friend. You’ve always looked out for me. Bent over backwards for me. How could I consider myself _your_ true friend, if I take you away from the man you love?”

“What?” Shae’s eyes searched hers. “Sansa, what are you saying?” Sansa gulped and lifted Shae’s hands in hers. “Shae. What I am saying, is that I am not going to tell you can’t be with Conall. I will not take you away from here, no matter what happens. You deserve to be happy.” Sansa smiled and kissed Shae’s hand. “Marry Conall.” Shae let out a breath that was between a laugh and a sigh.

“Live with him in Winter Town. Help him in his shop. Make beautiful little babies for me to come visit and shower with gifts and love.” Shae laughed at that and it made Sansa smile. “ _Be happy_.”

Sansa could see that everything she said only made Shae cry harder. “I don’t want to leave you.” She said through her sobs.

“Nor I you.” Sansa blinked back the tears in her eyes. “But I need you to be happy, more than I need you to braid my hair.”

Shae let out a laugh and Sansa gathered her up in a hug. She held her tightly, and made a promise to herself; Shae would never know just how devastating it would be for Sansa to live without seeing her every single day. Gone was the time for Sansa to rely on Shae for her strength, for everything. Sansa was a woman grown, and she had to deal with her own troubles on her own.

“There is just one thing I have to ask you.” She murmured into Shae’s ear.

Shae pulled away and wiped at her nose. “What’s that?”

“Will you be seeing Conall today?” Shae nodded and Sansa smiled. “Could you have him make something for me?”

 

 

“It’s the same cloak your father put about my shoulders, all those years ago.”

Sansa cleared her throat. “It’s beautiful mother.”

Sansa had been measured, poked and pinned by the seamstress. She claimed that she couldn’t wait to see the dress she had in mind, but she couldn’t even think on it. She thought she would be free to go after that mess, but her mother told her to wait. Things were still a little tense, since her behavior since last night, but Sansa couldn’t find it in her to apologize. Not yet anyway. When she brought over the maiden’s cloak, Sansa froze. It looked too much like the one she wore for the last marriage that she had been forced into.

As far as she was concerned, Sansa had already worn another white cloak, and that one would mean more to her than anything else ever could.

“And in just a few days, really…” Her mother continued. “…it will be replaced with the Glover cloak.” She gripped onto Sansa’s shoulders. “The same one that your daughters will wear on their wedding days. The same one your sons will give to their brides.”

Sansa closed her eyes, forcing the tears to go back into her head. Her mother wouldn’t see her cry. She almost had a thought to tell her, tell her that she couldn’t go through with it. But the words caught in her throat. And she hoped that she still had enough time to talk to Sandor alone, to figure out what exactly they were going to do. She had only seen him briefly in the morning, he claiming he had other duties to attend to. What he meant, she had no idea, but she clutched onto the hope that she would see him in the nighttime at least.

When she left her mother’s solar she nearly collided with Shaggydog bounding down the hall. His master was only just behind him and suddenly Sansa had an idea.

“Rickon. I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Hmm?” He brought a finger to his chin. “What is it?”

“Can you keep a secret?”

Rickon raised his eyebrows at her. “Sansa. I’ve been keeping the biggest secret of all for you, and you think you need to ask-“

“Alright! I got it! No need to announce it to the whole castle.”

Rickon laughed. “So, what is it?” She wrapped her hand through his arm. “Care to visit Mikken with me?”

 

On their way back, they ran into Gawen.

“Sansa!” He smiled, a devastating thing. “I have something I would like to talk to you about. Would you accompany to the godswood?”

Sansa felt Rickon’s arm tense under her fingers. She made herself let go of him and clasped onto Gawen’s arm instead. “I have something I want to talk to you about as well.”

She ignored Rickon’s glare and turned off in the direction of the godswood.

Once they were there, they settled in front of the heart tree. She watched Gawen say a prayer and all she did was stare at the pool of the hot spring across the way, remembering what she had done with Sandor in there the last time she was in the godswood.

When Gawen opened his eyes again, his hand found hers. “So, what did you wish to speak to me about?”

Sansa took a deep breath before she spoke. When she did, she told him of Erena’s concerns over Ramsay. She finished, and Gawen just laughed.

“No. She won’t be marrying him.”

Sansa sighed in relief. “Thank you. I knew you wouldn’t let that happen to her.”

He nodded. “Gods no. I’ll be sure to send a raven to my father as soon as possible. That will not be happening. Not if I have anything to say about it.” Sansa felt herself relax a little bit, but only for Erena’s sake. “I do hope Erena could be as lucky as we are.” He smiled and brushed his thumb over the back of her hand. With his other hand, he raised her chin, as gently as could be. She looked into his eyes, expecting another kiss from him, and dreading it all the same. But what he did was worse. “I love you Sansa.” She heard herself gasp and he let out a small soft laugh. “Don’t worry. I don’t expect you to respond. I just…” His eyes searched hers and she prayed he couldn’t hear her heart as hard as it was beating in her chest. “I just wanted to tell you, as soon as I realized it. And it is my sincere hope, that someday you will be able to tell me the same. But again, I expect nothing from you. I just want you to be happy.”

Sansa had no words. She could tell that he truly didn’t expect her to respond. So she just nodded and hoped, that now, it would be enough.

 

 

The next day, Sansa woke, alone, with swollen eyes. She didn’t understand. Sandor had avoided her all day. She thought on going to watch him and Rickon practice, but she was suddenly afraid. Gawen and Erena kept her busy enough, but the more they talked, the more anxious she became. After what Gawen told her yesterday, she needed to speak to Sandor, now more than ever. They needed to figure out what they were going to do. Besides that, she missed him terribly. For some reason, she didn’t try and knock on his door last night. She was…scared. They hadn’t made love in the same way since the night they told each other they loved one another. It made her more nervous than she wanted to admit to herself, but she still tried to convince herself that he was just as stressed as she. What they needed was time alone. And tonight, more than any night. She had a surprise for him, small though it was, she thought he might appreciate her thoughtfulness.

There was a knock on the door in the morning, and Sansa knew that it wasn’t Sandor. Anna opened it and Robb stood there, his fur-lined cloak around his shoulders.

“Would you take a walk with me?”

Sansa’s eyes widened. _What could he possibly want?_ “Of course. Mallory, fetch my cloak please.”

When they left the keep, Robb made a right, following after Grey Wind who bounded off ahead of them. “Where are we going?”

“The crypts. If you wouldn’t mind.” Sansa gulped, and he must have heard her. “If you don’t feel comfortable, it’s alright, I just wanted somewhere quiet to talk.”

Sansa made herself nod. “No. It’s alright.” She looked up to her brother. “Last time I went in there, Rickon appeared the next day. Maybe we’ll have the same luck with Arya.”

Robb smiled, but it didn’t touch his eyes. He clearly didn’t carry the same hope.

They got to the crypt and Sansa could hear her heart beating in her ears. Robb must have noticed how she tensed, for he reached for her hand and didn’t flinch as she gripped into his arm. They walked in together, making sure Grey Wind waited at the entrance for them. Robb grabbed a torch in his open hand and they stepped down into the darkness. They passed the old Kings of Winter and Sansa avoided looking at their faces. It was so quiet, Sansa wondered if now might be a good time to tell him that she couldn’t go through with the wedding, even though she and Sandor had no plan set. But she couldn’t think of the words to say. Still, she knew where he was leading her and she couldn’t bear the silence for another moment.

“So, what were you looking to talk to me about?”

Robb looked at her, and a small crooked smile came to his lips. “Roslin is with child.”

“Robb!” She leapt on him, stopping their progress and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He chuckled lightly in her ear, and it was a happy sound.

“How long?”

“About three months, Maester Luwin thinks.”

The smile that Sansa felt on her face was the truest one she had felt in quite some time. “I am so happy for you Robb. I do hope its twins again.”

Robb laughed. It was a pleasant sound as it echoed through the darkness of the crypt. “We could only be so lucky.” He took her hand and continued their walk.

“But that can’t be all you wanted to say, I’m sure.”

“It’s not. You are right.” He stopped then and Sansa didn’t have to look up from the ground. She knew they stood in front of their father’s grave. “I…I wanted to thank you, Sansa.”

“To…to thank me? Whatever for?”

“For, for being so cooperative.” He shook his head and gritted his teeth, he was clearly uncomfortable. “For agreeing to this marriage to Gawen.” _What? What is he getting at_? She didn’t say anything and let him continue. “We need this, this alliance, more than you know. Now more than ever.”

“Robb, what is going on?”

He shrugged. “Nothing for you to worry about.” He shook his head, seemingly at war with himself to speak to her about it.

“Please tell me.” Her hand found his shoulder.

He sighed and hesitated another moment before he finally spoke. “It’s the small council. They still think of me as a little boy, I’m sure. Lord Karstark. Lord Bolton. They’ve made it abundantly clear that they aren’t happy with some of the choices I’ve made as the King in the North.”

“Robb, I’m sorry. I had no idea.” She’d been so wrapped up in her own mind that she never considered he could be worrying about anything of significance.

He put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s not for you to worry about, as I said.”

She shrugged. “Still...”

“I just…wanted to thank you…again. I trust the Glovers and we need this alliance to make the North strong again. I know they are a smaller house, but they are just as vital to bringing the North back to the great kingdom it was before the war. And your agreeing to marry Gawen, Sansa, has just made this all so much easier to bear.” She was still silent. She didn’t know what to say. Here she was thinking that now might be the time to tell him she couldn’t marry him. But clearly, that wasn’t an option anymore. “I have to tell you…I was nervous that you would have denied the match in the beginning.” He gave a light, nervous laugh. “I didn’t want to tell you how important it was for you to agree, I didn’t want you to feel that pressure.” Sansa nearly laughed at that. But she bit her tongue. “But you will never know how thankful I am for you to agreeing to this so easily.” He looked to his right. “And I know how proud father would be of you.” Sansa closed her eyes, unable to follow his gaze. “I know that if he were here, he would be telling you the same thing. He would tell you how proud he was of you and the beautiful, strong and intelligent woman you’ve become. How you have survived all on your own in King’s Landing. How you held down Winterfell until I came back. How you’ve helped bring the family that we have left back together again. Sansa, without you and your strength, your reliability, so much would be different now. I am sure of it.”

Sansa felt her lip begin to tremble. “I’m not so sure of that Robb.”

“Well, I am.” He put his hand on her other shoulder, and searched her eyes. “I love you sister.”

Sansa couldn’t stop the tears from falling. “And I love you Robb.”

He pulled her into a tight hug, and even if he didn’t let out an enormous sigh, Sansa still would have felt the anxiety leave his body as it relaxed under her touch. Sansa opened her eyes, and through the blur of wetness, she could see her father’s face, carved out of stone. Proud and solemn as ever. And Sansa knew that he wouldn’t truly be proud of her. Not if he were here and knew the truth of what she had done.

They were quiet on their walk back together. It made it all that more easy to hear the sounds of steel ringing in the yard.

Sounds like Rickon and Sandor are busy in the yard.” Robb said to her. “Care to check in?

Sansa shook her head. She couldn’t see Sandor. Not after everything that Robb had just said to her. She needed time alone. She needed to process everything.

“No. I have to find Shae actually.”

“Alright. I’ll see you at dinner then.” He gave her a small smile, squeezed her hand once more and let go, walking with Grey Wind in the direction of the yard.

Sansa had to bring what Shae had to Mikken, but first, she needed to be alone. She headed for the godswood to pray. If her father wasn’t here to tell the truth to, maybe his gods would listen.

* * *

 

  _Sandor_

He was glad he had trained the boy so well. With the rage Sandor felt inside of himself, Rickon never would have made it through this round of practice if he hadn’t improved so much. They were both drenched in sweat and breathing heavy. Sandor’s muscles burned with the feeling of overuse, and he was in no hurry to quit. Neither was the boy, it would seem. Rickon made a wrong turn though, and fast as anything, Sandor put the tip of his tourney sword to his throat. “Dead little wolf.”

Rickon threw his sword down with a huff of anger and Sandor pulled away. Usually, now was the time for Rickon to laugh, or to groan in frustration. But he doubled over and put his hands on his knees, his breaths coming quick and heavy out of his mouth. Sandor wiped his brow, but otherwise remained unmoved as he waited for Rickon to catch his breath.

He heard clapping in from the side and looked over to see the King. How long Robb was there, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t rightly care either.

“Nice work men!” Robb shouted over to them. Rickon looked up, a half smile on his mouth.

“I don’t think…I’ll ever…beat you.” He panted.

Sandor laughed darkly. “I’d have to agree.”

“You could beat me Prince Rickon. I’m sure of it.”

Sandor and Rickon turned their heads at the same time. Ser Fucking Gawen had joined Robb on the side of the yard.

Rickon groaned, but Sandor was sure only he heard it. The boy raised his hands in the air. “Let’s have a go then.”

Sandor smirked and moved out of the way. “He’s all yours, Ser.”

Gawen approached Sandor and took the sword from his hands. Sandor settled himself next to Shaggy, far from Robb on the other side of the fence, and crossed his arms over his chest. Gawen weighed the sword out in his hand for a moment before taking a few practice swings and readying himself. They started and Sandor saw quickly, and with pride, that they were very equally matched.

Sandor knew what Rickon hoped for. That Shaggy, standing off to the side would have jumped out at Gawen once they started. But the dumb wolf did nothing of the sort, once they got going. He just sat there by Sandor’s side, panting with his tongue lolling out from between his teeth. Sandor had half a mind to shove him out into the yard to scare the shit out of the man, but he figured if Shaggy didn’t do it on his own, then he wouldn’t be doing it at all.

“Dumb dog.” He muttered under his breath and watched his trainee in action.

“Oh, that’s alright Clegane. You mustn’t be too hard on yourself.”

Sandor turned to his left. He hadn’t even heard Ramsay approach. “Bolton.” He bent his head toward him, his face a mask of disinterest, when all he really wanted to do was rip his greasy little head off his shoulders.

“Its kind of sweet, you know.” Ramsay went on. “In a sad, pathetic sort of way that is.”

Sandor groaned. “If there is a point, make it now before I lose my patience.”

From the corner of his eye, Sandor saw Ramsay’s wet lips peel back over his teeth. “Gladly…I couldn’t help but notice, over the past few days with you all, just how much you seem to care for the princess.” Sandor clenched his jaw, but otherwise made no move to respond. He knew Ramsay’s voice couldn’t be heard over the clang of the swords, so he made no move to stop him yet either. “I’ve seen the way you look at her. It’s not the way _I_ look at her. _No._ It’s much _much_ different.” He chuckled to himself and Sandor felt his hands clench into fists. “You _love_ her.”

Sandor breathed in slowly, trying to calm himself. It would do no good to kill him, not in front of Rickon or Robb. _Not just yet._

“I bet you wish you were out there right now, in Rickon’s place. I’m sure you would find a way to slip your aim. An accident, you would call it. It would be so painful to be impaled by a blunt tourney blade. I can’t even imagine.”

“Take a step closer, bastard, and I will be sure to show you.”

Ramsay laughed under his breath. “I am just curious though. Do you, actually expect anything from this…this puppy love you have for her? I mean, she is getting married _so_ soon.” Sandor didn’t react. He didn’t blink. He didn’t even twitch, even though everything in him was telling him to strangle the man. “Hmm. I thought not.”

Ramsay settled himself against the fence and crossed his arms, watching the match play out in front of him. “I think it’s time to face the facts, dog. She’s not yours, much as you’d like her to be. But here is another question. Do you think she is still going to need you around? Once she is married? Of course, you swore your life to protect hers and all of that beautiful nonsense, but will any of that really matter? Once Gawen here wraps her in his bright scarlet cloak of protection, in theory, she really won’t have need of her loyal dog anymore.” Sandor thought of all the times he pulled a cloak over Sansa’s shoulders. His mind resonated over the time he had done so in the godswood. But it didn’t matter. None of it mattered. She would never be his. Ramsay still chattered on. “She will be his to protect. To _love._ To fuck. Not yours.” Sandor sprang away from the fence and turned to face the bastard. He was just inches from his face in a towering form. To his credit, Ramsay didn’t even flinch. The only change in him was the smile that widened on his lips. “Oh.” He gritted his teeth in mock concern. “I’m afraid I’ve struck a nerve there, haven’t I?”

“Don’t you speak of her like that, you sick fuck.”

Ramsay laughed. “Or what? You once told me that you would flay me if ever I looked at her again. Well, I’ve been enjoying my time over the last couple of weeks, watching her wherever she goes. And look…” He shrugged. “I’m still whole. Though I can’t imagine you would be, if I told the great king just how you feel about your charge.”

As if on cue, Sandor heard only the echo of the ring of steel.

Robb was the first to shout. “What is going on over there?”

Rickon’s voice was right behind him. “Sandor, is everything alright?”

But he didn’t answer. He gave Ramsay one last look before turning away. He pulled at the clasps of his practice armor and let it drop to the ground, ignoring the concerned shouts of Rickon and the peeling sharpness of Ramsay’s laughter behind him.

He’d been struggling with it for days, trying to ignore his doubts, but he couldn’t anymore. He’d been regretting everything he had ever done with her. And now, after the talk with the bastard, he knew how foolhardy he was. How stupid he had been this whole time. Nothing has changed. Nothing is going to change. Nothing _should_ change. Not for her anyway. For him, everything was about to change.

All of a sudden he knew what he had to do.

He didn’t care that he was soaked in sweat. He didn’t care that he must have smelled. He didn’t care that it was in the middle of the day. He had made his decision and he wouldn’t wait around for another moment to go through with it.

He made his way to her room. In the stairwell, Mal was in his way, yet again.

“But, Sandor. Where are you off to? Shae isn’t in her room at this hour.”

Looking at the girl in front of him, he felt nothing. No pity, not anger. Just nothing. And he couldn’t give a shit about what she or anyone else thought of him anymore.

“Do us all a favor and go fuck yourself Mallory.” He pushed past her shocked expression and hurried in the direction of Sansa’s room.

He had to end it. And he had to do it now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooooo.... yea.
> 
> Bad news, this is going to happen. Worse news, its going to get worse.  
> Good news, we will find out exactly how... TOMORROW!
> 
> Oh! Life update! (As if anyone cares, but I'm just happy)
> 
> 1\. I love my job. The kids are cute and nice and friendly. I'm cherishing this time with them because soon I am sure they will wise up and become cool little high school jerks.  
> 2\. California was awesome. Mr. Fancy Kid and I are pretty sure we would like to move out there after we get married next year. We shall see. Best part: Santa Monica was my favorite. Also the wedding was loads of fun and adorable. Downside: Weezer played a free show in Del Mar at the same exact time as my cousin's wedding. Sooooo... that was a bummer.  
> 3\. Saturday was a lovely night. Saw Death Cab for Cutie at MSG with most of my friends and it was awesome. They played Passenger Seat, which is our wedding song, and I cried like a baby.
> 
> Okay that's all for now. Feel free to yell at me... just you know... remember to keep some yells for tomorrow's post.


	83. Chapter 83

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was tons of fun for me to write.  
> I'm just going to go ahead and leave it here... let you all chew on it for a week or so.  
> BYYYYEEEEE!!

_Sansa_

Sansa left Mikken’s feeling enormously proud of herself. It had been a perfect fit and it looked better than she expected. She clutched the wrappings to her chest as she walked back to her room. _I have to store it somewhere safe until I can give it to him tonight._ She hoped he would like it. She hadn’t had much time to think of something, but she prayed it would be enough.

She got to her room and closed the door quickly behind her. She made to hurry over to her dressing table, but she froze in her tracks.

“Oh!” Sandor was sitting on the edge of her bed. “Well, hello.”

He offered her no greeting, only a rasping, “I have to talk to you.”

Sansa found herself nodding. “Right. Yes. We do need to talk.” She stepped over to him. “First though.” She needed to speak to him, but seeing him there, in her room, on her bed, she thought that talking could wait. She bent her head and kissed him softly on the lips, wanting, expecting more when he didn’t react. She stood up straight and tried to ignore the uneasy feeling she had in her stomach. “And here.” She handed him the package and waited for him to take it, albeit somewhat reluctantly. “I had planned to wrap it more nicely, give it to you later, but since you are here…”

He was clearly surprised, that much was obvious. He held the package out in his hand and made no move to open it. “What is this?”

“Open and it and find out.” He looked at her from under his hooded eyes, before sighing and digging into the wrappings. “Happy nameday Sandor.”

He looked up from the unopened gift to her face. She felt a small smile on her lips, suddenly immensely proud of herself for her cleverness. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

“How did you know?”

“I have my ways.” She smirked at him. “But if you truly must know, I sent a Raven to your steward at Clegane Keep. He looked it up for me and sent me back my answer. I can’t believe how lucky I got, finding out right before your nameday. The timing was just perfect, because I’m sure you wouldn’t have told me.”

Sandor shook his head. “Sansa I can’t take this.”

“You don’t even know what it is! Just open it.”

And he did, slowly as anything. “A dagger.”

“Mhmm. Some of Mikken’s finest work, to be sure.” He pulled it out of the leathern sheath to examine the blade. She was relieved to see that it fit well in his huge hand. “Rickon and I visited him just yesterday and he rushed to finish it for me. He seems…tired.” She shrugged. “I’m glad I caught him in time. He’ll probably be looking for an apprentice soon.”

He stared at the blade, his eyes almost unseeing. “Hmm.”

“Shae had Conall make the hilt.” It was stark white, with just small hints of red here and there. “It’s from a weirwood, of course. Lacquered. He carved every detail into it. The trees, the red in leaves. It looks like the godswood, does it not?” Sansa was ‘chirping’ now she realized. She had expected him to be happy to see it. She didn’t expect him to be happy about it being his nameday, but that is why she didn’t say anything about it to anyone other than Rickon.

He turned the hilt in his hand and squinted at it more closely. “Is that a little bird?”

Sansa nodded, thankful that he was finally taking an interest. “My favorite part.”

He didn’t move. The only thing that changed was the frown that deepened on his mouth. “This is unnecessary.”

Sansa gulped. “Do you not like it?”

She barely heard his voice. “ _Of course_ I like it.” He still didn’t look at her.

“Then keep it. Please.” She reached for him and wrapped her hand around his that rested on his knee.

He looked at her. “Sansa.” There was something in his eyes that she couldn’t read. Something… unsure… reluctant. And all of a sudden, she didn’t want to talk to him.

“Don’t…don’t say anything. Just take it. Please. Just…” He finally, truly, looked at her and she searched his eyes for a moment, trying to understand what he was thinking. “Just kiss me.”

Sandor closed his eyes and breathed slowly out of his nose. She took that to mean he wouldn’t push her away so she stepped closer to him. She reached for the dagger in his hand and took it from him, placing it on the edge of the bed. He watched her hands as she moved him. The hand she already held in hers, she brought to her hip and placed it there. She reached for his other and lifted it up to her face. He watched his thumb trace her lower lip, his eyes seemingly lost in a fog of his own thoughts. Sansa brought her hands to his face and made him look at her in the eye. “Kiss me.”

And he did.

There was something strange about it, once they were without their clothes, once they were in her bed. He wouldn’t look her in the eye. At one point, she brought her hand to his face and moved it toward hers. He looked at her only briefly. There was something, again, in the grey of his eyes that she still couldn’t identify. But she couldn’t look on it for long enough. He closed his eyes and kissed her. Usually it would have made her forget her worries, but not now. He was attentive to her, more than he had been in a while. He trailed his mouth down her body, leaving shivers in his wake. Sansa’s hand found his head, his scalp. She pulled at his hair lightly, trying to tell him to stop. She wanted _him_. She wanted to feel him inside of her, not just his tongue, lips and teeth. But he reached up and pushed her hand away with a force that was a little unnecessary. He clearly could not be deterred, so Sansa tried not to think of the reason behind his actions. When she came, it felt almost bittersweet. He kissed the inside of her thigh and made her shudder once more. But then he pulled away from her and laid on his back.

“Where are you going?” She moved on top of him and started to make her way down, to return the favor.

“Don’t.” He growled, gripping almost painfully onto her shoulders.

Sansa swallowed a lump in her throat. _It’s alright,_ she thought, trying to convince herself. _He’s just tired._

She moved back up, settling her thighs on either side of his. She took him in her hands and readied his length at her entrance. He moaned again, but it sounded different than he usually did when he wanted her. She pressed his tip against her, knowing how he would love to feel the wetness inside of her. But instead of pushing his hips up to thrust into her, he pulled away. His hands found her hips and he lifted her off of him.

“I said _don’t_.” He snarled at her, finally looking her in the eye. In the dying light of the afternoon sun, Sansa knew that she had never seen him look so terrifying, so ferocious. _So horribly angry._

Sansa lifted her hands away from him, suddenly in fists at her chest. He stared into her eyes, burning into her until she couldn’t bare it anymore. She collapsed on to his chest in a heap of tears and sobs.

“What is wrong with you?” She managed through her cries. “Why won’t you look at me? Why won’t you _speak_ to me?” She looked up at him.

His jaw was set hard as stone. He stared into the ceiling and didn’t move to touch her. “I can’t do this.”

“Can’t do what?” She sniffed. “Fuck me?”

He flinched at that, but otherwise made no move to comfort her. “I can’t sit here and watch you destroy yourself over _me_.”

This is why they should have spoken earlier. But she had been too hasty just now, and too nervous earlier. The simple truth poured out of her now and she didn’t dare stop it. “I won’t marry him Sandor. I can’t. I won’t. How can I when I love you?”

Sandor closed his eyes and sighed. He pulled away from her again and sat up, leaning against the headboard. Sansa got to her knees in front of him.

“You have to marry him Sansa.” His voice was harsh.

“No.” Sansa closed her eyes and shook her head. She felt like a child.

“You do, and you know it.” He was losing patience, she could tell.

Sansa took a deep shuddering breath to steady herself. “That doesn’t mean we can’t be together.”

He laughed. “So what? So you want me to stay around? Be your…mistress?”

“No!” Her face screwed up at the word. “Don’t…don’t say it like that.”

“It’s time to be honest with yourself, little bird. Once your handsome knight puts his baby in you, you’ll look at me and laugh, remembering how you almost threw all of that happiness away for the likes of me.”

Sansa leaned back on her heels. “How could you say something like that? You know I love you.” _He rolled his eyes again_. Sansa felt like she was going to be sick. “What is going on with you Sandor!” She threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his hard chest, trying to look past the fact that he still didn’t try to touch her, to comfort her. “Let’s go.” She cried. “Let’s just leave.” She looked up at him through the tears pouring from her eyes. “I’ll be a merchant’s daughter. Just like you said. We can start over together. We... we can live in Essos. Bravos. Pentos. Anywhere! I don’t care. So long as I am with you.”

Sandor started shaking his head halfway through her speech. “And how would that work? Once we leave your brother will have his men chasing after us. He would have watchmen on every port in Westeros. The bloody Hound and the Princess of Winterfell are a bit recognizable, don’t you think?”

Sansa was the one shaking her head now. “I’ll… I’ll dye my hair. You can wear a cowl.” She gripped at his shoulders and felt him tense under her touch. “No one would ever know. You can take the gold you won from my father’s tourney. I know where I can get some from Winterfell’s stores. We can live a good, happy life in Essos. We would want for nothing. We would be able to love each other in peace and be happy.” Sansa was so sure of it. She had convinced herself in mere seconds as the idea came pouring out of her mouth. Surely Sandor would believe it could work too.

He cocked his head at her. “Happy?”

Sansa smiled. “Yes. We could be so happy, I know it!” She knew she was getting somewhere now.

He gave something between a sigh and a laugh. A small smirk came to his mouth and Sansa didn’t like the way it made her feel. He lifted his hands and gripped his fingers around her wrists. He gave a good squeeze and lifted her hands away from him.

And with three words he destroyed every bit of hope Sansa left inside of her.

“Stupid little bird.”

“What?” If Sansa wasn’t frozen to the spot, she was sure she would have broken in two.

He shook his head and climbed out of the bed. “It would never work.” He turned back to face her. “Don’t you get it? None of this could ever work.”

Sansa had to clear her throat to push past the sudden lump that she found there. “Of course…of course it could. I just said-“

“No.”

Sansa turned to watch him go to his clothes on the floor. She watched him pull on his small clothes. “Sandor. What are you doing?” His breeches. “What are you saying?”

He looked up at her as he tied the laces on his breeches. His eyes were cold, unfeeling. “This was a mistake.”

“What was?”

“This.” He gestured to her on the bed, still naked. “All of it.”

“All of it?”

He gave one curt nod and bent to pick up his shirts. “As I said.”

Sansa made herself swallow, trying to push back the sick that threatened to escape. “What…what are you saying Sandor?” He didn’t answer. “Where are you going?” He pulled on his boots, one by one. And still did not answer. “Sandor. Sandor look at me!”

She saw his shoulders rise and fall before he looked up at her. She felt a shiver run through her from the ice in his eyes. “It’s over Sansa. It’s been over long before now.”

She started to shake her head. “No. No it’s not. How could you say that to me? You _love_ me.”

Sandor didn’t move.

“Do you…” She blinked. “Don’t you love me?”

He blinked once, but otherwise was unmoved. “No.”

“ _No_?” A panic like she had never felt spread through her chest, she clasped an arm around her stomach. And she was sure she was going to be sick. “What do you mean _no_?”

He resumed dressing, tossing his tunic over his head. “You’ll get over this, someday. Sooner than you think, I’m sure.”

“Sandor. What do you mean _no_?”

“No as in this was all a mistake. I should have never let you believe I loved you.”

“Let me believe? Sandor you _told me_ you loved me!”

He ignored her. Sansa felt herself start to shake violently as her body grew colder than she thought possible. He just kept mumbling things and with every word, Sansa became colder. “I should have never let you in my bed. Should have never fucking kissed you. Never should have come here. Never should have sworn myself to you.”

Before she realized what was happening, Sansa flew off of the bed. She bounded up to him and hit him hard on the chest with her fist. “ _That was your decision_! I never asked for you to protect me!”

“Didn’t you? The night of the Blackwater? If you didn’t ask me to stay then I would have been far away from you by now. And far better off.”

“If you didn’t want to stay near me then why the _fuck_ did you ask Robb to be my sworn shield?”

“We all make mistakes little bird. Me, most of all.” “So you truly wish that none of this ever happened. That you never fucked me. That you never came here with me. That you never swore yourself to protect me.”

“Aye that is what I wish.” He towered over her. “But it’s too fucking late now isn’t it? I’m sworn to you for life.”

The hysteria that overcame her was suddenly gone. Sansa felt her body straighten, her stomach pull in to her spine, her chin raise as she looked up at him with all of the disdain and pride she could possibly muster in the nude.

“Not anymore.” She took pride in the way he stepped back from her. “I am sorry I cannot give you back the time that you wasted away on me. But you can be sure, that you can have back your life.”

“Oh can I? And tell me _Princess,_ how can I get my life back, after I swore it away to you?”

“But it’s so simple, _Ser_.” The words poured out of her mouth as if she had been made to say them. “I Sansa, of House Stark, hereby release you Sandor Clegane of your holy vow and of your service.” Sandor’s eyes betrayed nothing. The corner of his burned mouth twitched. And that was all. “You henceforth, are no longer sworn to my protection. You may do what you please, so long as it is far away from me, my family and my home. I need no coward’s protection. I never want to see you again.”

Sandor blinked, but his face was blank. He stepped back and in an exaggerated manner, he bowed low in front of her. “My Princess.” He spat.

“ _Get out_.” So she stood there, proud and straight as an arrow, naked as her nameday and watched the Hound leave. He closed the door softly behind him and it wasn’t until she heard his footsteps disappear that she let herself collapse.

 

 

There was a knock at the door some time later. Sansa thought it could be hours. Days maybe. But by the position of the dull light of dusk in her room she figured it couldn’t have been more than two hours.

“Sansa?” It was Rickon. She couldn’t find her voice to answer. “Sansa?” He knocked harder and Sansa watched as the door pushed open, Sandor not even latching it when he left. Shaggydog came padding into the room and headed right for her. She didn’t even flinch as he licked her bare arm.

“Uhmmm… “ Rickon was still waiting beyond the door. “…can I come in?”

Sansa sighed shakily. She figured her baby brother wouldn’t appreciate seeing her naked form crumpled on the floor.

“Just a moment.” Her voice was raw from weeping. She sat up and reached for her robe that she had left on the floor. She wrapped it tight around herself, Shaggy watching her all the while.

When she opened the door, Rickon’s eyes widened.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Sansa made herself shrug. “I think I’m getting sick.” Her voice was devoid of feeling. Completely monotone.

“Oh.” Rickon took a wide step back.

“What do you want?”

“It’s Robb. He wants to talk to you about something.”

“And he sent you? Why?”

Rickon shrugged. “He didn’t say.”

 _What could he possibly want?_ Her head was too heavy to think it through.

Sansa sniffed. “Tell him I’m on my way then.”

“That’s alright. I’ll wait for you.”

Sansa squinted at her baby brother, getting quite tall now, she noticed. “Alright…”

He just stood there, a big grin on his face, as she went back into her room to dress.

_Coward. You bloody coward._

As soon as Sandor left, Sansa fell into a heap on the floor. She hadn’t cried so hard since the day her father was killed right in front of her. She cried for the better part of an hour until there was absolutely nothing left inside of her. She thought of chasing after him, of making him see sense. But how could she after all of the things he had said to her? She was so angry. As she went back and forth in her mind over what she should do, she realized that he did it at the absolute perfect time. It being in the middle of the day, she couldn’t rightly chase after him.

_Bloody coward._

Not like he was anything to her anyway now. She released him of his vow before she even realized what she was doing. _I am truly nothing to him now._ And then another thought came to her.

_Maybe it was what he wanted all along. Just to fuck me and leave when it was convenient for him._

“Stupid little bird.” She repeated his words into the cold floor as she lay there. She hoped, for her sake, that he had gone already. She hadn’t truly meant it when she told him she never wanted to see him again, but she knew it was for the best. _She loved him_. No matter what he said or did, she knew that she still loved him.

She dressed herself as best she could in the dress she had on earlier in the day while Rickon waited for her. She couldn’t imagine what Robb wanted of her, and she really and truly did not care.

“If you’re getting sick, you should probably put shoes on.” Rickon told her as she stepped into the hall.

Sansa closed the door behind her, looking down at her bare feet. “I don’t really care, Rickon.”

“Uhmmm… alright…” Sansa wrapped her arms around her middle. She felt like she was going to fall apart if she didn’t. “Where’s Sandor?”

Sansa hoped Rickon didn’t notice the way she flinched at the sound of his name. “I don’t know.” She wrapped her arms tighter around her middle as they continued on. It wasn’t until their walk to Robb’s solar together that Sansa realized how jumpy Rickon seemed. More than his usual amount of energy.

“What’s wrong with you?” She asked him, hating how rasping her voice sounded.

“Me?” Rickon looked surprised. “Oh, nothing. Nothing at all.”

 _Little liar_. Sansa couldn’t find it in herself to probe further. Her stomach was still turning and she couldn’t imagine what Robb wanted from her.

When they we admitted into the room, Grey Wind was at the door, as if to usher them inside. He and Shaggy went off to a corner, to conspire about their wolfish schemes it would seem. Robb was at his table, rifling through letters. He stopped when he saw them and put his papers down, his eyes wide as he took in the sight of Sansa.

“What happened to you?”

 _My beating heart was only just ripped out of my chest_ , she wanted to say. But Rickon spoke for her. “She’s getting sick.”

“Oh.” Robb blinked. “I’m sorry to hear that. Make sure you see Maester Luwin when you leave here.” Sansa just nodded. “Why don’t we all have a seat?” Robb gestured toward the upholstered couch and chairs arranged around the fire in the hearth.

Sansa sat first on one end of the couch. It took everything in her not to curl up into it and start crying again. She just kept her arms tight around her middle in place of that. Rickon came and sat to the left of her, Robb in the chair to her right. She noticed Robb take in the sight of her bare feet, but thankfully he didn’t ask. The way Rickon bounced his knees nearly shook the whole couch. She looked at him and pondered at the huge smile on his face. Robb leaned forward toward Sansa, his hands on his knees as he looked at her.

“So, tell me what this is all about.”

“What?” Sansa’s exclamation came out as a near shout.

Robb’s brow furrowed. “Rickon says you have something to tell me.”

Sansa whipped her head around to Rickon. “You told me Robb had to talk to me about something.”

“Well…” Rickon started, a sheepish grin spreading across his lips. “You both need to talk really. Sansa has to tell you something Robb.”

 _No. He can’t be serious._ “Rickon.” Sansa growled a warning through her teeth.

“Yes.” Robb said. “Rickon says that what you have to tell me may be difficult for me to understand?” He was probing. Waiting for her to answer. But she couldn’t move. “Something you were nervous to tell me?” _This can’t be happening. Now. Of all times._ “Sansa, you mustn’t be afraid to talk to me about anything. I’m your brother.” His lip turned up in a melancholy smile, probably remembering their conversation earlier in the day.

“Well, when she tells you what it is, you’ll know why she’s nervous.” Rickon laughed lightly. “But it will all work out. I know it will.” Sansa’s hands were shaking against her body, almost as hard as she shook her head now from side to side. Rickon reached out and brushed her shoulder. “Sansa it’s alright. He promised he would listen. Promised he would try to understand when I told him he might not be able to.”

“That’s right.” Robb tried to assure her. “Sansa. Although both of you are making me a little worried about what it could be right now.” His nervous laughter backed up his statement.

Finally, she found her voice, and it was the most unconvincing she had ever sounded in her life. She looked at Rickon. “No.”

The smile that was on his face was instantly wiped away. “No?”

Sansa shook her head again and looked at Robb. She let her arms down to her sides and straightened her back, praying he wouldn’t notice the way she shook. “Robb. There is nothing to tell. I assure you.”

“Nothing to tell? Sansa are you joking?” Rickon laughed.

“Rickon. _Enough_.” She snarled at him. “It is out of the question.” She looked back at a bewildered Robb, trying to suppress the feeling of her stomach threatening to jump out of her throat. “Robb. What he is talking about. It is nothing of consequence. I promise you.”

“Nothing of consequence!” Rickon was furious. She had never seen him like this, his face was turning red and his eyes were wide and wild. “Sansa! This is your life!”

 _Shut up! Just shut up!_ “It doesn’t matter anymore Rickon.” She felt like she was going to break in two. She felt like she might burst.

“Of course it does!” Rickon was yelling now. “You are both making a mistake and you are both too scared to stop this!”

Sansa turned and grabbed his shoulders. “Rickon!” But he didn’t stop.

“Robb won’t be mad! I know he won’t! Not when you explain!”

“Rickon. Please. Stop this now!” Her fingers were digging into his flesh, but still, he didn’t stop.

“No! Not until you tell him the truth!”

“Rickon. It’s over! It doesn’t matter anymore!”

“What in the seven hells are you two talking about?” Robb yelled. Both Sansa and Rickon turned to him. She couldn’t speak for Rickon, but she had completely forgotten her elder brother was there.

Sansa let go of Rickon. “Nothing. It’s over. There’s nothing.” She wiped away the tears she didn’t notice had fallen with the heel of her hand. But Rickon clearly wasn’t done.

He shot straight up off of his seat and stood in front of Robb. He jutted his arm out to Sansa, pointing directly at her. “ _She doesn’t want to marry Gawen_!”

“No! Rickon don’t!” Sansa stood and put herself in between her brothers, Robb getting to his feet at the same time.

“Sansa? Is this true?”

“No!” - “Yes!” She and Rickon yelled at the same time.

“Stop lying Sansa!” Rickon yelled at her and Sansa kept her back to him. She grabbed Robb’s hands and her eyes bore into his. She’d never seen him more confused in her life.

“Robb. Please. Don’t listen to him. He doesn’t know what he is saying.”

“I know exactly what I’m saying!” Rickon still yelled. “And I know it’s the truth!”

“Robb. Please. Please please…” Sansa kept muttering under her breath, begging Robb to listen to her. Begging Rickon to stop. Begging Sandor to come back.

“She doesn’t want to marry Gawen, Robb! She doesn’t want to because she loves someone else.”

“No!” She spun around to Rickon, not letting go of Robb’s hands. “Shut up Rickon! Don’t you get it? It doesn’t matter anymore!” She turned back to Robb.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Who?”

Sansa was frantic. She couldn’t catch her breath. “Robb please don’t listen to him. _Please_.”

She heard Rickon groan, an animalistic sound, behind her and knew then that there was nothing she could do to stop him. “ _She loves Sandor_!”

Sansa closed her eyes. It felt like everything went in slow motion then, almost like she was underwater. She felt Robb tense under her fingers. Though it might have just been from the way her nails dug into him when Rickon said it. She couldn’t bear to look. The only sounds she heard over her heart in her ears were a wolf whimpering in the corner and her own voice whispering _no no no_ over and over again.

“She is in love with Sandor, Robb. She _loves_ him.”

She heard Robb intake a breath and felt him as he slipped his hands away from her. But she couldn’t move. She couldn’t open her eyes. _Maybe if I don’t then this would all be a dream._

“And Sandor loves her.”

 _It’s too late_ , she realized. _It’s out. He’s told him._ There was no use in hiding it anymore. Sansa put her hands over her face and answered Rickon. “ _No_ he doesn’t.”

“What? Sansa is this true?” Robb’s voice was quiet. “I don’t understand.”

“Yes he does Sansa.” Rickon continued, ignoring Robb. “He loves you. I know he’s never told me at least, but it is _obvious_. I know he loves you Sansa.”

“He doesn’t love me.” Sansa could barely hear her own voice, and when it came out it was almost like a sob.

There was a pause and then her little brother’s softened voice. “ _What?”_ She felt Rickon’s hands on her arms, trying to pull her hands away from her face. She let him. “He loves you Sansa. I know he does. He has to.” It seemed like he was trying to convince himself more than her.

In that moment, nothing mattered. Nothing mattered more than the truth that she had only just learned. That Sandor had never truly loved her. That she had given him everything and he still truly didn’t want her. _He lied. A hound will die for you, but never lie to you. And he lied to me._ “If he loves me, then why did he leave?”

Rickon’s eyes went wide and his grip on her arms tightened. “Leave?”

“Yes.” Saying it out loud changed something in her. She didn’t know if it made her more brave or just more careless, but either way, the anger was surpassing the hurt she felt inside of her and it was far more dangerous than she could have ever imagined. She found her voice then, and it was harsh and sharp. “He’s _gone_ Rickon.” Her little brother flinched, but otherwise, he didn’t move away from her.

His big blue eyes searched up into hers. “But… but he can’t be gone.”

A white hot heat that she could only describe as rage spread through her limbs and erupted from her chest. She shook herself away from Rickon and pushed him away.

“He’s gone Rickon! He left! He left me!” She shouted loudly and she didn’t care who heard.

Rickon’s face screwed up in utter confusion. “But he can’t leave you. He swore to you! He swore his life to yours!”

Sansa laughed. “And he has regretted it every day since. He made that _abundantly_ clear today, you can be sure.”

“That’s not true Sansa!” Rickon’s brow furrowed. He seemed to be angrier now. But Sansa didn’t care. Nothing he felt could compare to the way she did. “ _He swore a vow!”_

“And I released him from it! So it’s done! It’s over and he’s gone. So none of it _fucking_ matters!”

“Sansa!” For the second time, Sansa had completely forgotten about Robb’s presence in the room. He’d heard everything. And she could not care less.

Her hands flew in the air in complete exasperation. “What is it Robb?! After hearing _all_ of this, you’re only reacting to _my language_?”

Robb closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I just don’t understand. You love… you _love the Hound_?”

“Yes. I love the bloody Hound! _I love him_.” She shouted again.

Robb shook his head, his eyes wide. “I don’t understand.” Sansa laughed under her breath. She couldn’t describe the way it felt, to finally have the truth out in the open. It felt so freeing, and so absolutely terrifying.

Robb looked into her eyes, an almost disgusted look on his face. “How could you love _him_? He’s… he’s with Shae. Your friend. Why would you want to be with someone who is _sleeping_ with your friend?”

Sansa heard Rickon moan, and it sounded like he slapped a hand over his face. Sansa just laughed out loud again. Her mind was a complete blur, her head felt as light as air. She felt _completely mad_. “You have to be joking Robb. Honestly. Please. Please _please_ tell me you are making a jape.”

“What is going on in here!” Roslin’s voice was a surprise. She hadn’t even noticed her come in and she didn’t care.

“Sansa don’t.” Rickon tugged on her elbow from behind her and she whipped her arm away from him.

“You know what? I don’t even care anymore! Rickon figured it out on his own. A ten year old.” She pointed at Roslin, who looked like she wanted to be anywhere but here. “Your wife figured it out on her own. And you still haven’t! Even when it is staring you right in the face!”

Roslin’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Sansa, please don’t do this.” She begged. She felt Rickon’s hand on her arm again and she didn’t bother to shake him off.

Robb held up a hand. “What are you saying Sansa?” It was a warning, she knew.

When she spoke, her voice didn’t even sound like hers. “What I’m saying is that Sandor hasn't been _fucking_ Shae!” Robb’s nostrils flared, Rickon’s grip tightened on her arm and Roslin gasped. But she was beyond caring.

"It was _me_. And it has _always_ been me.”


	84. Chapter 84

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how I said things were going to get worse?
> 
> Think of it like this...  
> There will be 4-5 bad things happening.  
> If the last chapter was step one, consider this step two.

Sansa

“ _What did you just say?”_

Sansa let out a shuddering breath. She heard her voice in her head, echoing over and over again.

_It was me._

_It was me._

_It was me._

She wanted to scream it again. She wanted to take it back. She wanted to hide in a hole and never come out. But there was something else; an undeniable feeling of freedom - relief, that filled her veins. When she spoke, it was quiet, but her voice was strong, clear and steady. “You heard me.”

Robb clenched his jaw so hard, Sansa was waiting for his teeth to crumble into pieces in his mouth. He barely opened his mouth to speak. “Rickon. Roslin. _Leave us_.”

“No.” Sansa said, her chin high. “They’re not going anywhere.”

The four of them stood there, no one making a move, everyone seemingly afraid to say another word.

Until Robb took a step forward toward her, his hand in front of him, approaching her gently. It was a movement she remembered mimicking toward Sandor, just a few nights ago when he accidentally told her he loved her. Sansa blinked at the thought. _If it wasn’t true, then why did it slip out like that?_

Robb’s eyes were different than hers had been. His were harsh, as if he clearly already knew the answer to the questions he was about to ask. As if he wanted to be wrong about it. “Did he force himself on you? Did he convince you to do this? Did he threaten you?”

“ _What?_ No!” _How could he suggest something so horrible?_ “I – If we are going down that road Robb, then you must know that it was me who initiated…” Sansa gulped, not sure of what to call it. “…everything.” Her head continued to spin. It felt like she was underwater again, from the rushing sound in her ears.

Robb asked her question after question and she felt her panic rise with each answer she gave. “Why did you do this?” He pressed.

“I wanted to. I wanted to be with him. I…I love him.”

He didn’t even react to that. “Who else knows?”

“…Shae.”

“Besides my brother. And my wife it would seem.” He glared at Rickon, but kept his back toward Roslin, who looked more distraught than any of them. “Were you a truly a maiden Sansa?”

“ _What?”_

“You heard what I asked.” Robb was beyond looking uncomfortable. He wasn’t even thinking of propriety. “Did Tyrion bed you first? Did you lie to mother and me about that?”

She froze. _This could be a way out._

 _But how could I do that? You wanted to get the truth out there, get the whole truth out. Sandor lied enough for the both of you already._ “No.” She gulped over the incessant lump in her throat. “I was still a maiden after Tyrion died.”

Sansa watched her brother’s hands clench into fists. “Until?”

She was so willing to share everything just before, but now it felt so wrong, to speak about something so personal, so intimate, so dangerously secret. _Well, you went and ruined that for yourself now didn’t you?_ She took a breath and tried to steady herself. “Until about a month ago.” Robb’s shoulders slumped. He looked completely defeated. So horribly disappointed. “I wanted to tell you today Robb. I tried…”

“What were you going to tell me?” He snapped at her.

Sansa had to swallow before she spoke. “That I couldn’t marry Gawen because I am in love with Sandor. And he loves me. And we want to be together.” _Though it seems those last two sentences were untrue on his part._

Robb’s eyes narrowed and he shook his head in what looked to be utter disbelief. “How could you do this?”

Sansa cleared her throat. “What do you mean?”

“I _mean_ , how could you jeopardize everything I have worked for, for _the Hound_?”

“ _You_?” Sansa swallowed, the guilt she had just been feeling already dissipating. “Everything you have worked for?

“Yes Sansa. You know how important it was that we make a good match for you. To strengthen the North once again. And you went and _ruined_ it all.”

“So…” She started, feeling another wave of anger course through her. “…I’m worth nothing to you other than my virtue? The parts of me that are yours to sell?” Robb opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out and he close it again. “So you admit it? That all I was good for was the piece of flesh inside of me that is gone now?”

“Sansa!” Roslin gasped.

“Everything you said today in the crypt, was that a lie too? Am I so ruined to you now that everything else about me and my person is now worthless to _your_ cause? To _your_ family? _Your_ legacy?”

Robb huffed and Sansa saw that he started to shake. “ _I_ did my duty.” He pointed to Roslin. “ _I_ married the woman I was promised to marry, with no questions asked. _Why_ would you do this? _How_ could you?”

“Because I wanted to! I have no explanation other than that!” Sansa flung her arms out to her sides, and tried to hold her shaking hands steady. “For once in my life, I did what I wanted to do. Not what was _best for me_ , or _expected_ of me, or _commanded_ of me. I _chose_ to give myself to Sandor. Because I love him.” Robb rolled his eyes in exasperation at the sentiment again. And it only made her angrier. “In addition to that simple fact, I don’t know if you have forgotten Robb, but I’ve already been forced into a marriage that I didn’t want. I was expected to put up with that too and I did. Because they would have killed me. I never imagined that I would feel as pressured by my own family as I was by the Lannisters!” Sansa took a breath to steady herself. It didn’t work. “The _only_ one there, keeping me safe, looking out for me, was Sandor.”

Robb rolled his eyes angrily and moaned. “This again.”

“This again? What the fuck do you mean _this again_?” Robb didn’t say anything, but he didn’t look any more cowed by her either. “I can’t _believe_ you. You will never understand anything I had to go through!”

Robb answered, condescending as ever. “We all had our own troubles Sansa. Rickon was off living with cannibals. I was waging a bloody war!”

“I know you were. Which is why I don’t blame you for my being alone. But you don’t know the things I had to witness.” She closed her eyes trying to push the images away. “The things I had to endure.”

Robb groaned and she could tell by his tone that he had probably rolled his eyes yet again. _He’ll never understand. Not unless I make him._ So she opened her eyes and said something she had never said aloud before. “Joffrey tried to rape me.”

“ _What_?” Roslin stepped forward.

“ _Sansa.”_ Rickon sighed in shock.

But Robb’s eyes just widened briefly.

Sansa licked her lips. She’d never told anyone what happened. The only one who knew about it was Sandor, and he was there. They had talked about it once, but she never had to explain what had happened. In doing so, she found her mouth terribly dry, her heart fluttering in her chest. But she pressed on. “Joffrey came to my room one night when Margaery couldn’t get pregnant. Tyrion wasn’t there.” Sansa felt her jaw start to shake and she shrugged. “He thought he might try with me.”

Robb looked away and wiped his hand hard across his jaw.

“Joffrey hit me, he tore at my clothes, and he called Sandor in to hold me down.”

“ _Seven hells Sansa.”_ Rickon breathed. There was something in her that thought her little brother shouldn’t be hearing this, but it was too late for that now.

“The only reason I wasn’t raped by the king was because Sandor was there.” She put her hand to her mouth. “He hit him over the head. Knocked him unconscious when he was on top of me.” Sansa breathed in a shuddering breath through her teeth. “We only talked about it once, since then. Sandor almost killed him that very night.” She waited, remembering, listening to the silence in the room. “Gods.” She breathed, the tears flowing freely. “If he wasn’t there…”

Roslin came to her side. She held her hand and rubbed the top of Sansa’s arm soothingly. “But he was there. It’s all over now Sansa, you’re safe.”

She couldn’t believe she was supporting the man who just broke her heart. But she couldn’t deny these simple truths, and it was time Robb knew them too.

Sansa pulled her hand away from Roslin and wrapped it around her stomach. “ _He_ kept me safe. He was the only one I trusted.” A sob racked through her chest. “And now he’s gone.”

“Gone?” Roslin chirped. “What do you mean _gone_?”

Sansa shrugged out another sob. “He’s probably halfway to Essos by now.”

“Essos?” Roslin gasped. “But he’s here.”

“ _What_!” Robb and Sansa shouted at the same exact time.

“He’s…” Roslin’s eyes shifted nervously from Sansa to Robb. “He’s here. I’ve… only just passed him.”

Sansa felt herself start to sober up, the tears stopping almost immediately. “You mean…he didn’t leave?”

“Unless he managed to do so in the last five minutes. Though I’m not sure if he’d be able to, drunk as he was.”

“Drunk?”

“Well yes. “ Her eyes shifted again. “I could smell him before he even spoke-“

“He spoke? What did he say?”

“He just said, ‘evening little queen’.”

 _Why hasn’t he left? He’s had plenty of time to get far away from me, just like he said he wanted._ “He’s here.” Sansa repeated to herself.

“Yes.” Roslin let out a light chuckle.

“See Sansa, I told you!” Rickon was pulling at her arm again, but gently this time, encouraging. “He would never leave you. He loves you.”

Sansa started shaking her head before he even finished. “But it can’t be true. He told me he didn’t love me. He just told me that it was all a lie!”

“But Sansa you released him from his vow to you and he is still here!” Rickon shouted.

“You did?” Roslin was shocked. Sansa had to remember that she wasn’t in the room until she finally revealed her secret to Robb. “When did this all happen?”

“Just a little while ago.” Sansa answered.

“Sansa he is still here.” Rickon tugged at her arm again. “What does that tell you?”

She shrugged and sniffed. “He’s drunk…he doesn’t want to leave the wine?”

“No Sansa.” Roslin scolded her. She grabbed Sansa’s hands again. “Rickon is right. He can’t leave you. He won’t. He loves you.” She pulled Sansa closer and her stare bored into her. “The only lie he ever told you was today, when he said he didn’t love you.”

“But why would he...” She was so lost.

“I don’t know.” Roslin shrugged. “To make things easier for you maybe? Whatever he did I am sure it was in self-sacrifice.”

“I don’t…” Sansa trailed off, not knowing what to think, not knowing what to say.

But Roslin seemed sure. “I saw it on his face, Sansa. He _is_ in love with you. He practically admitted it to me. I saw it, and I believe it.”

_Seven hells…what if she is right?_

“ _Have you all lost your bloody minds_?” Again, Sansa had completely forgotten about Robb in the room. By Roslin’s reaction, it seemed that she did too. “You can’t actually be supporting her in this.” Roslin looked at her feet and dropped Sansa’s hands.

Roslin shrugged innocently. “I just want her to be happy Robb.” Sansa chest warmed and she wanted to rush over to her good sister and wrap her arms around her.

Robb just huffed again. He looked at Rickon. “How long have you known about this?”

Rickon shrugged, clearly uncomfortable and out of his element. This was obviously not what he was expecting when he initiated the conversation, the poor boy. “I’m pretty sure I knew they loved each other before either of them did.”

Robb closed his eyes slowly. Sansa was sure the whole ‘love’ aspect of this discussion was but a minute detail. Sansa watched him turn on his heels, slowly as anything, toward his wife again. When he opened his eyes, Sansa could see that Roslin held his gaze, though it seemed to be difficult for her.

“Roslin. How could you lie to me like this?”

“Robb…” She stepped forward and reached for him, but he pulled away. Roslin wrung her hands together out in front of her. “It was never my intention, to keep something from you.”

“She didn’t know everything Robb. She figured it out on her own when she saw-“ _The bite mark on my neck._ Sansa felt her eyes widen and she knew she couldn’t go that far. _You just told him that Sandor has been fucking you for a month and now you are afraid to mention a little bite mark?_

Thankfully, Roslin stepped in. “When I saw the way he looked at her. When she passed out, on the way to Deepwood. He…he held her.” She shook her head slowly, visibly remembering the moment in her mind. “Robb. The way he looked at her. It was the same look…” She glanced at Sansa, at Rickon, looking like she was at war with herself for what she was about to share. “…It was similar to the way I see you look at me sometimes.” Roslin looked at the ground when she said it, her pretty cheeks turned bright red.

Sansa saw Robb’s features soften, but only for half of a moment. She continued then, trying to help dig Roslin out of the hole she had just thrown her into. “After that, I told Roslin that it was over. I told her we had broken it off. For… for my marriage. For Gawen.”

Robb’s eyes darted in between them, remembering. “That afternoon. When I came to the room, and you stormed out.”

“Yes.” Roslin answered. “That is when I first…addressed her about it.”

“And it is also when I told her that it was all over. That I was committed to marrying Gawen.”

“But you didn’t keep that promise did you? Not if you were trying to tell me today how you didn’t want to marry him.” Sansa looked down at her hands, waiting for the next assault. “Deepwood.” Robb said under his breath. Sansa looked up. Robb was staring at nothing, but she could see that he was thinking hard, putting something together in his mind perhaps.

“The bed.”

_Oh no._

“The broken bed at Deepwood Motte.”

“Bed? What bed?” Rickon piped up. “What did I miss?”

He remained unanswered and Robb’s eyes didn’t leave hers. “That was _you_?”

Sansa couldn’t tear her eyes away from Robb, as much as she wanted to. So she nodded and choked out a pathetic, “Yes.”

Robb’s nostrils flared again, but the look on her brother’s face could only be described as pure disgust, and Sansa knew it was directed right at her. She felt herself flush again, finally feeling some bit of shame for what she had done.

Something in his eyes changed after a moment, something that Sansa couldn’t identify. Robb growled through his gritted teeth. “ _I’ll kill him_.”

“What?” Sansa was so quiet, she barely even heard herself speak. “I’ll kill him.” Robb strode over to his desk, leaving a frozen Sansa in his wake.

“No…you can’t…you can’t be serious…” She trailed off in a nervous laugh.

Robb grabbed for his sword that was leaning against the wall, unsheathed it. “Robb, what are you doing?” Rickon asked, his voice sounding very small.

“Robb.” Roslin reached out for him, but he pulled his arm away again and headed to exit the room.

 _He’s not kidding. He’s not kidding. Stop him. Stop him!_ Sansa threw herself in front of the door before he could get there.“Don’t be ridiculous Robb! You can’t kill him.”

When he looked at her, it was like he just saw right through her. His eyes were wide and nearly aflame with rage. “I killed his brother. This should be easy.”

He pushed her lightly and Sansa stumbled out of the way. Robb opened the door, Grey Wind at his heels, his sword unsheathed in hand.

“Robb! Stop this right now!” Sansa scrambled after him, Rickon and Roslin behind her.

“Your grace, is everything alright?” One of his guards asked. Robb stopped only briefly to address the guards outside of the door.

“What are you going to do?” Sansa begged. “Don’t hurt him! Please Robb!

Sansa saw Robb’s eyes crinkle in disgust, but he didn’t look at her. “Detain my sister.”

“What?”

Roslin shouted. “Robb what are you doing!” But she didn’t dare go to physically stop him.

The hands around her arms weren’t ungentle, but she was powerless to escape them. Sansa watched Robb take two steps before Rickon clutched onto his arm. “What are you going to do? You can’t hurt him!” Robb shook Rickon off and turned back to the guards.

“My brother too.”

Two more men appeared to grab hold of Rickon and Sansa watched helplessly as her brother set off down the long hall to kill Sandor.

“ _Robb! Please!”_ She screamed, her voice rasping, not sounding nothing like herself anymore.

Rickon fought widely against the men and soon Shaggy was at his side, threatening with an unmistakable growl of warning. But Sansa didn’t watch. She turned to Roslin who stood there, her mouth agape. “Stop him! Stop him Roslin please!”

“I can’t.” Roslin was frozen to the spot. “I doubt anyone will be able to.”

“No.” Sansa sobbed and pulled at her captor’s grasp on her arms, her shoulder tightening with every yank. “ _Robb_!” He was almost at the end of the hall. And then she thought of it. “ _Robb!_ If you don’t have them release me, if you hurt him, if you even _touch him_ , then I will tell _everyone_.” Robb stopped in his tracks just before he was to turn the corner, but he didn’t turn around. Sansa’s heart nearly stopped in relief. “You heard me. This castle, this _kingdom_ , all of bloody Westeros would light up with the talk of it. I don’t care about what happens after! I will tell them all!”

Robb turned around slowly on his heel. The look he gave her sent chills to her core. For the first time in her life, Sansa could see a side of her brother that she could only ever imagine, that only those on the battlefield with him and Grey Wind would have seen before. The man capable of killing the Mountain.

His voice was cold and not his own. “Let her go.” And he turned back around toward the great hall.

The guard couldn’t release her fast enough and soon she was bounding down the hall, barefoot, after her brother. She heard Rickon and Shaggy behind her. She was sure Roslin was making her way after them too. She’d never run so fast in her life. She saw ahead of her as others in the hall moved out of Robb’s way and she dodged between them, ignoring their looks and scandalized gasps. She nearly caught up with Robb when he burst through the doors of the Great Hall.

“ _Hound!”_ Robb’s voice reverberated through the hall, filled nearly halfway with people eating, drinking, like they did every night. A hush fell over the crowd and Sansa swore she could hear his voice echo.

Sansa found Sandor easily enough. She wanted to fold over and collapse on the floor again when she saw him. He picked his head up from the table and Sansa could see that he was drunk. _But he’s here. He’s here. He didn’t leave like he said he wanted to. That has to mean_ something _._ Sansa felt something inside of her that she could only identify as hope.

Hope that was about to be dashed away in an instant, if Robb had his way.

Robb waited for Sandor to respond. _He can’t hurt him. Not here. Not in front of all of these people._

Sansa felt Rickon collide with her in the next second and the force pushed her further into the room on her unsteady bare feet.

Sandor stood up then, nearly knocking the others over on his bench. He wobbled just a bit, though he stood straight and tall and Sansa hoped no one would notice. Sansa glanced around the hall at the concerned and confused familiar faces. Gawen. Erena. Ramsay Bolton. Roose Bolton. _Darol_ even. Everyone’s eyes were on her and Robb.

“Hound.” Robb growled and stepped forward. “Outside, with me. Now.” But Sandor didn’t move.

Sansa grasped for Robb’s arm but he was already approaching Sandor and out of reach. Sansa watched as Sandor’s eyes took in the sight of Robb’s unsheathed sword. “Robb. _Please_.” Rickon moaned from behind her. How Robb imagined on doing it here with everyone around was beyond her, but his mind was set, that much was clear.

_He didn’t believe me. He didn’t believe that I would actually tell everyone about me and Sandor._

“Robb _don’t_!” He stopped again, just mere feet away from Sandor. “I’ll say it, Robb. I’ll tell them all.” Sansa pulled up her chin and stood on her toes, aware of all the eyes on her. And she meant it. By the seven, did she mean it. “I swear by the old gods and the new, _I’ll say it_!” Her voice was strong and steady again, revealing nothing of the nausea and nerves within her.

“You’ll say _what_?” Catelyn appeared out of nowhere, holding her skirts up over her feet as she shuffled quickly over toward her wild children. “What in the heavens is going on here?”

Sansa gulped. _Mother._ Could she say it now that she was here? If Robb, continued, she would have to. She had no choice.

Sansa caught Sandor’s eye just then and she swore, through the wetness in her eyes, she saw his mouth move to form the words, _I’m sorry_. And she felt like she was going to burst.

“Your Grace!”

Every head in the room turned to the door. Maester Luwin’s voice reached them before he did. When he made it to the hall, he was pale, he was breathless and he held a raven’s scroll in his shaking hand.

“What is it? What’s happened?” Robb shouted as he approached the Maester. From where Sansa was standing, she could see the writing was naught but scratch on the parchment. Whatever it was, it had been hastily written.

“Ser Gawen, Lady Erena.” The brother and sister looked at each other briefly before hurrying over to where Sansa stood near Robb and Luwin. “I’m so sorry.” Luwin tried to catch his breath, but he couldn’t. “It’s from your father.” He panted quietly. “They’ve taken it. The ironborn. They’ve taken Deepwood Motte.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was challenging for me. I had pages and pages of conversation written. Took me so long to organize it and factor in everything I wanted to be said and all. Hope it came off okay.
> 
> That being said, we are seriously getting down to the wire here. I'm going to be very depressed when I finish.


	85. Chapter 85

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In celebration of over 200,000 words... here is some more misery!

Sansa

If Erena didn’t clutch onto her brother, Sansa was certain she would have collapsed onto the ground. The entire hall was already quiet from the scene that Robb and Sansa had already put on, so the cry that the girl let out seemed to echo across the Great Hall.

Only the few people close enough to hear what Maester Luwin had said knew what was happening. It was clear that Robb knew it was time to address his people. He attempted a look at Roslin, Sansa saw, before he stepped ahead and made his voice loud enough for all to hear.

“The Ironborn scum have come ashore again. And this time they’ve dared to invade Deepwood Motte.” Roars of outrage filled the Great Hall and men were already getting to their feet. Robb’s eyes were hard as he turned to Gawen, who nodded once back at his king. They seemed to have communicated silently somehow. Robb turned back to the crowd, his voice strong, unflinching and utterly captivating. Sansa watched in awe, the entire hall enrapt in his words; the commands of their king. “We ride to Deepwood at once. We won’t rest until we must, and when we do, it will be brief. In two days’ time we will arrive in Deepwood Motte and we will rid our shores of the traitorous bastards once and for all!”

Another roar erupted in the hall, but this was one of assuredness, a battle cry. It seemed that all at once, the crowd was moving. The next few minutes were spent in an organized mayhem and Sansa was frozen to the spot. Every man in Robb’s and Lord Bolton’s service seemed to know what they had to do. They all had a part to play in these dire times and Sansa was glad to see that everyone was well prepared for an emergency such as this.

She felt so bewildered that she didn’t even know where to look. She found Sandor’s eyes above the chaos and he was already staring at her, his hollow eyes unflinching. She went to step forward to reach him, but Robb cut off in front of her.

“Clegane.” Sandor’s gaze shifted and Sansa saw that he looked Robb straight in the eye, but Sansa could see how difficult it was for him to focus on one single thing, drunk as he was. “Sober up and ready your horse. You’re with me.”

Sandor blinked, nodded once, his jaw set, before turning on his heel and heading toward the stables. Sansa shook her head. _What just happened?_

She stepped forward to speak to Robb. “What do you mean?” She could barely hear her own voice over the commotion. Lord Bolton was speaking to Robb, low and in his ear, but she didn’t care. She reached for her brother and tugged at his arm. “He’s not coming with you, Robb.” She couldn’t tell if he had heard her, as he ignored her so steadily. She tugged harder. _He clearly didn’t hear me_. “Robb. Did you hear me? Sandor won’t be going with you? His place is here. With me.”

Robb turned on her then, jerking his arm away from her grip. Both he and Lord Bolton stared at her as if she was mad. _Maybe I am._

Robb squinted his eyes at her, his nose wrinkled in disgust. “If you think I’ll let him anywhere near you again, you are sorely mistaken, sister.” The look he gave her sent chills down her spine and again, she felt completely frozen to the spot.

“What?” Erena asked. She gripped onto her arm as Robb turned away in a rush to prepare. “What does he mean Sansa? What happened?”

Sansa’s open mouth closed tightly shut and she shook her head. The tears in Erena’s eyes stopped for a moment as she stared at Sansa with the most bewildered expression. She seemed to be shocked that Robb would address her in such a way in front of others. But the break in tears didn’t last long.

“Erena.” Gawen stood behind her, his cloak already wrapped snuggly around his shoulders. Erena let go of Sansa and turned to her brother, fresh tears flowing anew as Gawen held her tightly for a moment. His eyes found Sansa’s over Erena’s shoulder. They were hard. He was angry, she realized. And for a moment Sansa felt a lump in her throat, sure that he had figured out what transpired earlier in the evening. Sansa had only seen him angry once, after pulling her away with Ramsay. That was nothing to the hard look on his face now. But she thought back onto their discussions about his home; the pride he felt, how much he loved Deepwood. And Sansa knew he wasn’t angry at her, but at what had happened. _Of course, you stupid. Stop thinking about yourself for once, the poor man’s keep has just been invaded._

He pulled away from Erena and gripped onto her shoulders, looking at her hard in the eye. “They won’t get away with this. You know I won’t let them.”

“Gawen.” She sobbed. “What about Father? Mother?”

“They wouldn’t have hurt them. They can’t be that stupid to have done that.”

Erena let out another sob. “If anything happens to you…”

Sansa could see his fingers digging harder into her shoulders. “Don’t you worry about me, sister. The Ironborn are foolish. With the Bolton here forces we will far outnumber them. We’ll be back in no time.” He pressed his lips to her forehead.

The stark contrast between their goodbye and the one she and Robb just shared was not lost on Sansa. She felt like she should have turned away, like she was intruding on too private a matter. But as she started to, she felt a strong hand on her shoulder, pulling her back. Gawen turned her toward him and held onto her shoulders, more gently than she had expected. His eyes searched hers and it seemed like his mind was searching for what to say. She didn’t know what she should say to him. She couldn’t take her mind off of Sandor, and how she would make it to see him before Robb took him away. Gawen didn’t seem to care. She saw a glimpse of hesitation in his eyes, but just for a second. And then his hands cupped her face and he pressed his mouth to hers. It was quick, but hard and warm, and anything but chaste.

Sansa was breathless, and for the first time after he kissed her, she felt her face warm with the blood that rushed to her cheeks. Gawen seemed to notice. He smiled lightly and brushed his thumb over her cheek. He pulled her into an embrace and her arms automatically snaked their way around him. She shut her eyes tightly fighting back the tears that burned behind her eyes.

Gawen turned his head and his lips found her ear. “Don’t worry, Sansa. I won’t let anything happen to that dog of yours.”

Sansa stilled as he pulled away, still holding onto her hand. He shrugged and smiled meekly at her. _What does he mean by that?_ But she didn’t have time to think on it. He reached for Erena with his other hand. “Keep each other safe.” He brought their hands together and Erena snatched Sansa’s up when Gawen let go. “I love you, both. I will see you soon.”

Sansa wished she could say it. She wished she could send him off to battle with an assurance that his future wife loved him as well as hoped for his safe return. But she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t lie to him about that. Her hand covered her mouth when Erena peeped out her love for her brother. He didn’t wait for Sansa to say anything, he just smiled softly at both of them and turned away toward the stables.

Erena turned into Sansa and buried her face in her shoulder. Sansa watched through the tears in her eyes as he disappeared into the crowd. _Gods. Please don’t let anything happen to him._

Sansa’s silent prayer was interrupted by her mother, who once again, seemed to appear out of nowhere. “Where is Rickon?”

Sansa shrugged, feeling the dampness on the fabric of her shoulder where Erena had cried through it. “I don’t know. Weren’t you standing near him?”

Catelyn shook her head. “I had to turn away from him when Robb said goodbye to me and Roslin.”

The hall was finally clearing out and her little brother and his wolf were nowhere to be seen. She glanced around for Osha, but didn’t see her either. _Where could he be?_

And then it hit her. _No. He wouldn’t be so foolish._ Sansa sighed. _Of course he would._

Sansa gently pushed Erena away from her, and Catelyn stepped in to hold her up. “I’ll go find him.”

Sansa followed the crowd, pushing through as best she could. Most of the men cleared the way for her, clearly confused as to why the princess would be pushing through a throng of soldiers on their way to battle. Finally she made it outside. It wasn’t until she was a few yards into the freshly fallen snow that Sansa realized she was still barefoot.

“Buggering hells.” She groaned under her breath at the cold coursing through her, but it didn’t slow her down. When she finally found a break in the building formations of men and horses she darted off toward the stables. She ignored the looks she got as she did. She must have been quite a sight; flaming red hair flowing wildly behind her, barefoot, in nothing but a loose fitting woolen dress to protect her from the biting cold.

When she finally made it to the stables, she was shivering and breathless. It was filled with men and horses filing about, readying for the impromptu journey. Sansa found Rickon easily enough. She could see Shaggy’s tail whipping back and forth from inside a stall about midway through the stable.

“Rickon!” She broke into a run again and made it to him in the stall in just a second. Sure enough, he was in there, smoothing the saddle blanket on the horse he had taken to riding, ignoring her all the while. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” He lifted the saddle and approached the horse again.

“It looks like you’re struggling to lift the damned saddle.”

“That’s enough, Sansa.” He raised it over his head and Sansa saw as his arms shook slightly under the weight before he placed it down on the horse’s back with a huff. “I’m going into battle.”

Sansa couldn’t help the harsh laugh that slipped from her mouth. It was just so ridiculous! “Very funny Rickon. Let’s go inside, mother is waiting.”

Rickon looked at her, and there was no humor in his eyes. “I am going Sansa.” He continued his work, buckling the saddle into place. “Shaggy and I will help Robb and Sandor push those squids back into the sea where they belong.”

In that moment, she knew that he was absolutely convinced. “Rickon. You can’t be serious.” She was shaking her head as he continued ignoring her. “Come. Bring me inside, I’m going to catch cold out here like this.” But he still ignored her. “Rickon!”

“You’re not coming, little wolf.” Sansa hadn’t even heard him approach, but there he was behind them, guiding Stranger out of the stables.

She turned back to Rickon who stared defiantly at Sandor. “What do you mean, _not coming_?”

“What other meaning might ‘you’re not coming’ have?”

Rickon rolled his eyes and turned back to his horse, checking the bit. Sansa’s head was spinning. How in the world was she going to get him to come inside? Sansa chanced another look at Sandor, but he wasn’t looking at her.

She wanted to hit him. She wanted to kiss him. To yell at him. To cry into his chest and beg him not to go. _But why won’t he look at me? Hadn’t he just tried to apologize?_ She had to say something. He was running off to _battle_. How could she not say something? _He still doesn’t even know what Robb knows!_ _Seven hells, what if something were to happen? What if he gets hurt? What if Robb kills him himself during the fight and makes it look like an accident!_ She stepped forward, the problem with Rickon momentarily forgotten, and opened her mouth to say…something. But something stopped her in her tracks. A small tick of Sandor’s head, to the left and back again. _No? What is he saying no to?_

“What is going on in here?” It was Robb. He’d entered the stable and Sansa hadn’t even noticed. _Gods, what if I had said something?_ Robb would have taken Sandor’s head right then, being reminded of her betrayal. Hearing Robb approach, Sandor pulled Stanger further away from the stall and made way for the king. Robb shot him a look but then turned into the stall, Roose Bolton and his slimy bastard standing near behind him. Robb’s eyes glossed over Sansa with disdain before he focused on their brother who had eyes for nothing but the task at hand.

“Rickon.” He commanded. “Bring your sister inside.”

“No.”

“I think you mistake me brother. That was not a question.”

Rickon dropped the reigns and clenched his hands into defiant fists at his sides before turning around to face Robb. “I’m coming with you!”

Robb remained unmoved. “You most certainly are not. Inside. Now.”

Rickon took a step closer. “You’ve seen me in the yard. You know I can fight.” Rickon took a breath and Sansa saw his hands relax, just a little bit. “Please Robb. I want to help. I…I couldn’t last time.”

“It is out of the question. You are ten years old and completely unprepared for a real battle.”

Sansa could see tears brimming in Rickon’s eyes as he fought hard to hold them back, lest they support Robb’s argument. Sansa knew what he was thinking – the last time the Ironborn came to the North, he had been unable to protect himself and his home. But if Robb softened, it was only the slightest bit. “Your place is here, protecting mother, Sansa and the queen.”

“But I can fight…” He trailed off, knowing he had lost already.

Finally, Robb stepped forward and placed a hand on Rickon’s shoulder. “I _know_ you can. Which is why you’ll remain here in my stead, with the house guard. I need you here Rickon. Can you understand that?”

Rickon ground his teeth but eventually nodded, roughly.

Sansa put a hand to her chest. _Thank the gods._ Images of Sandor carrying a kicking and screaming Rickon over his shoulder ran through her head and it wasn’t pretty. She looked past Robb out into the stable hall, but Sandor and Stranger were already gone. Sansa felt her eyes widen and her pace quicken. _He’s already gone. He didn’t let me say goodbye._

“Get inside.” Robb snapped at her, seeing where her attention had gone. “The both of you.”

Rickon slumped his shoulders and headed out with Shaggy on his heels. He didn’t wait for Sansa and she didn’t follow after him, her eyes searching for a sign of Sandor and Stranger.

Robb grabbed her wrist, not ungently, and she was made to look at him. “Don’t make me tell you again Sansa.”

She blinked and slipped her hand away from him. His eyes were still hard, but there was something else behind them now. _Embarrassment? Shame? He’s probably regretting making that scene in front of everyone, especially the Boltons._ Her eyes flashed to the men behind him. Roose, addressing one of his men and Ramsay, who stared unabashedly at her bare feet with a wet smirk on his face. Sansa swallowed her disgust and brought her eyes back to her brother. As angry as she was, as scared as she was, she knew she couldn’t let him go without saying something. So she squeaked out the first thing she thought of. “Please be safe.”

Robb blinked at her, his jaw set, but he nodded once. Sansa felt herself relax, in the slightest bit. _I’ll take it._

She gave him once last look before nodding once to Ramsay with all the pride she could muster and turning away to leave the stable.

When she got outside again, the wind whipped her hair over her face and cut under the loose neckline of her ill-fitting dress. Her feet were already so cold that she barely noticed as they imprinted into the soft layer of snow that had blanketed the ground.

It wasn’t a moment later that she heard the familiar shriek of Stranger among the commotion in the yard. She lifted her head and went out in search for him. He was easy enough to find, in the center of an open circle in the crowd of men and horses giving the beast a wide enough berth to have his usual fit.

Sandor stood holding his reigns, uselessly. Sansa felt something akin to freezing cold fingers grip around her heart at the sight of him looking so alone, so helpless. She strode up to him and got right in front of Stranger as she usually did, reaching out to rub his nose, between his eyes, and down again. She murmured to him as she felt him begin to calm, until she was able to rest her forehead against his nose. She knew the surrounding men probably watched everything she and Sandor were doing after the scene in the great hall. So as much as she wanted to reach out to him, she refrained. She cleared her throat before spoke. “He doesn’t want to go.”

“He’s not the only one.” Sandor rasped. She opened her eyes. He was closer than she had expected. Only a few inches away from her face. She could smell the strong wine on his heavy breath. His eyes narrowed slightly as he searched hers. He looked like he wanted to say something…something important.

_If he doesn’t say it in three seconds then I am going to kiss him. Right here. Bugger anyone who might be watching._

_One._

He licked his lip, and breathed heavily out of his nose, still unmoving.

_Two._

Her hand began to reach up toward his face.

 _Three_.

“Sansa!”

Her hand stilled before falling back down to her side. She turned to the shout and found Robb, trotting up to her already on horseback. By the time she turned back around, Sandor had mounted Stranger and started to move away from her. Her hand that was still on Stanger’s nose fell heavily at her side. She watched him move away from her and wrapped her arms around herself, clutching at her sides, trying to hold herself in one piece.

The threat of the two of them together gone, Robb went back to ignoring her and rode ahead to the front of the group. Sansa shivered in the cold, feeling more alone than ever. She looked up and found that most of the eyes around her were still watching her which only made her feel colder.

One set of eyes pressed down on her harder than the rest. They were dark blue and beautiful, glinting in the darkness, and full of… _pity_. Sansa felt rather than heard a gasp escape her lips. The way Gawen looked at her, the way he must have been watching her interaction with Sandor, was not a look she would have expected from her betrothed. It was a look of sadness yes, but not for himself. It seemed to be for _her_. She closed her mouth and felt her head shake from side to side. She didn’t know what she was trying to communicate to him. An apology perhaps? She watched in awe as Gawen’s lip turned up at the corner and he shrugged. Sansa felt the breath go out of her as he waved to her and turned his mount toward the gate.

Sansa was still frozen to the spot when she watched them leave. Once it was clear that everyone was ready, Robb gave more words of encouragement, and the roar of the army was so loud that it nearly competed with the rushing waves sounding in Sansa’s head. Robb put his heels into his horse and started off into the night, Grey Wind already sprinting at his side. It was quite a sight, watching the few hundred men riding off into the snowy night, the light of the torch fire washing over the banners of Stark, Bolton, Glover held high and proud. She may have been able to appreciate it, if not for what just transpired between she and Gawen as well as the glaring realization that she couldn’t find Sandor in the sea of men and horses fleeing the safety of Winterfell’s walls and riding off to battle.

 

“Ow, Shae is this really necessary?”

Shae had plopped her burning cold feet into steaming hot water in a bucket on the floor.

“Of course it’s necessary. Unless you’d prefer your toes turning black.”

Sansa sighed and rested her head on the back of the couch. She’d got an earful from both Shae and her mother when she came inside, nearly frozen to the core and shaking like a leaf. Her protestations to Shae’s actions were the first words she’d uttered since coming into her mother’s solar with the rest of the women. She thought that it might have been the cold that left her so numb, but she knew the truth. It was the panicked feeling of not being able to see Sandor one last time as he rode off into the night. Shae wrapped another warm fur around her shoulders, and soon, with the warmth of the water, she finally stopped shivering, but the feeling of bile threatening to rise in the back of her throat from all that had happened didn’t leave her.

An eerie calmness had settled over the inhabitants of the room, everyone seemingly lost in their own thoughts, prayers and concerns. Only then did Sansa realize who was missing.

“Where is Rickon?”

“He came back inside with Shaggy before you did.” Osha murmured, shaking her head. “I saw him to his room. Spoke to him.”

Sansa sighed and nodded, resting her head back again, confident in whatever Osha must have said to sway Rickon from leaving. Sansa took a moment and surveyed the room. Osha and Brienne sat across from each other, staring intently at a cyvasse board. The two fierce women looked half mad, being forced to stay here rather than joining the men in battle. Shae was busying around, unsettled, not really accomplishing anything other than keeping her hands busy. Her mother sat in a tall upholstered chair and stared into the fire in the hearth, her needlework all but forgotten in her lap. Erena was curled up on the couch across from Sansa, a blanket pulled up over her shoulders. Her eyes were open, empty, like she was seeing nothing. Sansa had watched as Roslin and Catelyn tried to give some words of encouragement when she got into the room, but when the girl remained unresponsive, they just kept their mouths shut. Roslin was stretched out on the other side of the couch next to Sansa, her feet nearly touching Sansa’s thigh. Sansa watched as her brow knitted up over her tightly shut eyes, her hand moving in slow circles over her belly.

Sansa gasped, forcing Roslin’s eyes to open wide. She reached down and grabbed at her ankle. “In all of this mess, I completely forgot to congratulate you Roslin! Robb told me this afternoon!”

Roslin’s shocked expression faded quickly into a half-hearted smile. “Oh yes. Thank you. I’ve nearly forgotten myself.” By the way she still continued to rub her stomach softly, Sansa knew that wasn’t truly the case.

“I’ve been meaning to ask…” Catelyn spoke up from across the room.

 _Oh gods no. I shouldn’t have spoken._ She looked up to find her mother watching her. “What was all that business in the great hall between Robb and Clegane? I’m sure I’ve very scarcely seen Robb so angry in all his life!”

“Oh it was all a misunderstanding, I assure you.” Roslin murmured out under a yawn, as if what had happened was the most boring occurrence in the world.

Sansa chanced a look over to her mother, trying to hide the panic in her eyes, keeping them hooded under the guise of exhaustion. She nodded lightly, backing up Roslin’s statement. Roslin tilted her head back to better see Catelyn, still as relaxed as ever. “You can speak to Robb about it when they return if you wish. I’m sure he will agree that he was out of line.”

Catelyn didn’t look completely convinced, but she looked too worn to press the issue. Sansa gave Roslin’s ankle a light squeeze to thank her and tried to settle her heart again.

It seemed it was only moments ago that Sansa was ready to stand on a table in the great hall and shout of her love for Sandor from the top of her lungs, not caring of the consequences, not caring of who might be hearing. Only now in the quiet of her mother’s private rooms was she thankful she did no such thing. She tried to push the thought away, that it was the dark tidings brought in by Maester Luwin that had stopped her. She was sure Robb would never have acted on his strong desire to kill Sandor right then and there. And she was sure that it was her threat that had stopped him from doing so. But now, that they were out there, without Sansa to stop them…

_They will tear him limb from limb if Robb gives the order._

Sansa felt a shiver run through her and she wrapped the fur more tightly around herself. And then she had another thought. _Gawen._ The words he had whispered into her ear about keeping Sandor safe had confused her. But the look he gave her in the yard? Did he figure it out? Is it that obvious? _Will he still want to marry me when he returns_?

And of his promise to her…would he really support Sandor if Robb tried to hurt him? Why would he do that if he knew anything of the truth as he suddenly seemed to? Wouldn’t he want to kill him himself? She felt so horribly guilty, but there was an odd feeling, akin to relief, at the prospect of the truth finally being out there.

Still, the possibilities, the horrible images running through her head left her completely unsettled. _What if none of this matters? What if none of them ever return?_

Suddenly Sansa couldn’t sit there anymore. It was all too much. She sprung up, sloshing the water over in the bucket as she did so. She couldn’t bare being surrounded by such somber quietness. If she was going to break down, to cry, _to lose her bloody mind_ , she wanted to do it in the privacy of her own room.

She told everyone as much and she stopped Shae as she tried to follow her. She would have to update her on everything later. For now she just had to be alone.

She nearly ran to her room despite her feet still tingling with numbness. When she got there, she bolted the door and ran to her window. She opened up the shutter and let cold wind blow in. She stared out over the darkness, letting the lightly falling flakes enter her room, cling onto her hair. She shivered, and again, it wasn’t from the cold, but from a memory that suddenly came back to her.

The threat of a battle looming over her, the way she came into her room and opened the window, she half expected to see the green light of wildfire flames washing over the cold plains of the North. She whipped herself around, waiting to see the Hound lying on her bed as he had that night, so very long ago. But to her disappointment, the only thing left of him was the crumpled sheets of their interrupted coupling earlier in the day.

_Unless…_

She strode over to the bed and smoothed out the furs and covers.

_It should be here…_

But still, as she ripped all the covers from the bed and shook them out, she couldn’t find it.

The dagger she had made for him for his nameday. It was gone.

_When had he come back for it?_

Sansa slumped onto the floor in the heap of bed covers. She bent over her knees as a sob racked through her. Robb. Gawen. _Sandor._ It was just all too much to handle. She couldn’t wrap her head around the worry, the grief that coursed through her veins.

She laid there for a while, soaking the fabric through with the saltiness of her tears, until she could produce no more. The numbness overtook her again, and it was only when she remained silent for a moment that she heard it.

The distant howling of a lone wolf.

_Shaggy?_

Sansa was up and on her feet before she even knew it. She was following the sound and found that she was headed toward Rickon’s room. The howling got louder and was soon accompanied by harsh scratches of sharp claws on hard wood. He was inside, pushing against Rickon’s door with such a force that it looked like it was going to pop right off of the hinges if she didn’t do something. “Rickon!” She shouted to him, but there was no answer.

When she got to the door, she realized it was locked from the outside. _How in the world…_

But she didn’t give her a moment to think on it. She unlocked the door and made sure to stay out of the way as she opened it and the black beast darted through. Shaggy was down the hall and out of sight before she even blinked.

_Why wouldn’t Rickon let him out?_

She turned into the room and immediately, she had her answer.

Rickon was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops.
> 
> Wanna hear what's worse?  
> We have less than 10 chapters left.
> 
> Wanna hear what's even worse than that?  
> I have to go to a wedding right now.


	86. Chapter 86

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. I'm alive. Incoherent. Exhausted. Completely mentally and physically drained from adult life. But alive.  
> Here's this thing: this chapter...not my favorite and pretty short...but at least we're still trudging along!  
> Thank you for being patient. I love you all.
> 
> So this chapter:
> 
> You probably saw it coming... but here it is anyway.

 

Roslin

The shout Roslin heard sent a chill down her spine. She was just beginning to doze off in her good mother’s solar when -

_“Rickon!”_

Her eyes snapped open in an instant. Osha was out the door before Roslin could even get to her feet, Catelyn and Brienne close behind her. _What in the seven…_ Roslin stood and crossed the short distance to Erena on the couch across the room. She crouched down and touched the girl on the shoulder.

“Erena?”

The girl’s eyes were open, but she was unresponsive - understandably. Roslin sighed before standing again and rushing off to the mayhem that awaited her.

By the time she made it past Rickon’s room, it was empty. She followed the continued shouts down the stairs and the hall until she made it to the great hall.

The few guards Robb left in the castle were running about, Brienne and Catelyn in their midst, seemingly giving orders. Roslin turned and saw Sansa standing off to the side, her slender arms wrapped tightly around her middle, holding herself together as a steady stream of tears ran down her pale face.

She made it over to her in just a few strides and clasped onto her upper arms. “What’s happened?” Sansa’s face was white, and slick with tears. Roslin had to grip harder into her arms to get Sansa’s eyes to focus onto hers. “Sansa!”

Sansa blinked hard and shook her head furiously before finally looking at her. “He left!” Her jaw shook as she spoke. “Rickon. He’s gone after them. Robb and Sandor.”

“What do you mean? How do you know?”

“He left without Shaggy.” She sobbed, not answering Roslin's questions. “Why would he do that?”

_She can’t be serious. Rickon is ten years old! He couldn’t possible think he would be ready to fight in a real battle._

Osha appeared out of nowhere, somehow already prepared with her cloak clasped around her neck, her spear in hand. “His horse is gone. Shaggy’s already sped off out of reach too. Hopefully he will catch up to him first.”

“Are you going after him?” Roslin asked, her heart beating out of her chest.

Osha nodded. “I’ll have the best chance of finding him.” She glanced sideways at Sansa, and back over her shoulder to Catelyn. She reached out for Roslin and pulled her closer, away from Sansa, before speaking in a low tone so the girl wouldn’t hear. “There were times though, in Skaagos, where he left for days at a time. No matter how hard I tried, I could never find him. I just had to have faith that he would come back and he always did. At least now, I know where he is headed.”

 _Gods. That does not make me feel better about this!_ “Osha. You have to find him, _before_ he gets to Deepwood. Or else-“

Osha nodded once. “I know.”

“Osha.” Catelyn called. “They’re ready.”

Roslin and Osha turned to Catelyn where she stood with two younger guards. Roslin looked at her goodmother. How Catelyn remained calm and steady during all of this, she was sure she would never understand. _She is more queenly than I will ever be._

A terrible image flashed through her mind as she watched Osha and the others leave. _If they don’t find Rickon in time…if Robb doesn’t make it…if Sandor gets killed…the only ones left to rule the north will be us._ She wiped away the wetness forming in the corner of her eye. _They better make it. Otherwise_ , she hoped, _Catelyn will need to be strong enough for all three of us._

 

Sandor

_I’m going to kill him. I’m going to rip his slimy mouth off of his face and feed it to his bloody dogs._

By the time they stopped to rest for longer than a few minutes, it was already the next evening. Thankfully, it had stopped snowing in the afternoon. But Sandor was still drunk when morning broke and he nursed his headache from atop Stranger’s back for the rest of the day.

After watering Stranger, and setting him up in the makeshift paddock, he scarfed down the meager meal that was offered and headed to get some rest.

Sandor was busy setting up his bed roll against the trunk of a thick tree. He settled in and wrapped his cloak tightly around himself, remembering the last time he had laid out in the open forest, and the girl in the dress on top of him, the taste of lemon in her mouth. He could have fallen asleep quickly and peacefully with that thought on his mind, if not for the Bolton bastard that had made his way near and insisted on speaking to him for the last several minutes. Ramsay started by asking what had happened the night before to make their king so very angry. Sandor ignored him all the while, but that question had been on his mind since the second it had happened.

All he knew was that he was sitting there in the great hall, on his umpteenth cup of strongwine. He knew he fucked up with Sansa. _What the fuck was I thinking? Trying to leave her? Telling her I never loved her?_ He swore that would be the last time he would let the weasel bastard get into his head. The look on her face when he made his intentions clear wouldn’t leave his mind. _She looked completely shattered. And I did that._

It didn’t take Sandor long to realize that he would go crawling back to her just as soon as he could stand up without swaying. He didn’t care what he was to her. He didn’t care if she never kissed him again. A life without looking at that damned face every day way useless, completely pointless and devoid of any purpose. _I might as well be dead._

He was set on it, preparing what he might say – how he would grovel at her feet. And that’s when the whole bloody family came rushing in. The king was screaming for him, his sword drawn, and all Sandor could remember paying any attention to was Sansa, pale as anything, looking like a beautiful wreck behind him.

Sandor didn’t know what was happening then. But he hadn’t even thought of it until Ramsay just mentioned it again now, though he was sure once Robb got a chance, he would hear just what it was about. All he could think of during the whole trip was Sansa, and how he needed to get back to her.

_But she dismissed me from her service. She released me from my vow. How would she ever take me back?_

_Words are wind_ , he heard in the back of his mind. He tried to focus on the way she looked at him right before he mounted Stranger and left. Like she wanted to kiss him. _Gods I wish she had._

All he wanted to do was go to sleep, with the thought of her mouth on his, but Ramsay saw to that not happening any time soon.

“Let me guess…” Ramsay continued. “King Robb found out about your puppy love for his sister, hmm? Is that it?”

Sandor’s eyes opened wide and he clenched his teeth so hard he was sure they would crumble right in his mouth. Ramsay had said the words way too loudly, from just a few feet away on his own bedroll, his arms folded underneath his head, his eyes gently closed, a sick wet smile on his mouth. Sandor sat up and looked around at the other exhausted men settling in around him. Of the those who were near, only one man’s face was turned toward him. _Fucking Gawen. Of course._

Sandor blinked at the man’s blank face and turned to Ramsay.

“Are you usually this cheerful before a battle, bastard?” Sandor finally answered him.

“Oh yes. Aren’t you?” He chuckled under his breath. “Oh I bet you are just itching to kill aren’t you? Not many dangerous tasks for the shield of the princess.”

Sandor’s eyes flashed over to Gawen. From the quick look he could see Gawen’s brow furrowing. _He can hear. Fucking hells I have to shut him up._

“Although,” Ramsay went on. “I’ve heard, she’s done more in the ways of rescuing hmm?”

 _What?_ “The fuck are you talking about?”

Ramsay opened his eyes and raised himself up on his elbows. “Oh, I heard about your little accident on the road, on the way to Winterfell.” Sandor saw Ramsay’s eyes flash down. _He means my leg. The fire._

Sandor was on his feet before he even realized it, Ramsay rising soon after him, the smile still on his lips even with Sandor towering close over him.

“How the fuck do you know about that?” He growled.

“Well, its common knowledge isn’t it? You, the fearsome Hound, saved by the little princess of Winterfell.” Sandor took a step closer, threatening him to shut his ugly mouth, but Ramsay went on with a little laugh. “I bet you’re glad there are no tents out here tonight hmm?”

Sandor couldn’t say which was more satisfying; the feeling of crushing the bastard’s windpipe in his fist, or the terrified look emanating from his sickly pale eyes as he lifted Ramsay by the neck and crushed him against the tree behind him.

But he didn’t get to enjoy either for long.

Almost immediately, Sandor felt at least three sets of hands on him, pulling him away from the bastard. He still held onto Ramsay’s neck, and did so until one of the men managed to pry his fingers away while the others held him back.

Ramsay fell to his knees and gasped for breath, clutching at his neck. Sandor finally gave up when the bastard started laughing as soon as he caught his breath and he was pushed back against a tree with a force that he wasn’t expecting from one person.

“He burned my bloody tent!” He roared at the man holding him back.

“What? What tent, you don’t have a tent!”

“On the way to Winterfell! He lit my tent of fire.”

“Clegane. Get a hold of yourself!”

Sandor gave his eyes a chance to focus, and only then did he realize exactly who was holding him back. _Fucking Glover._ “He’s the reason your little wife has scars on her hands.” Sandor snarled at him. “He lit my tent on fire!”

Gawen’s brow softened for a moment when his eyes widened. He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted.

“What in the hells is going on here?”

Sandor groaned loudly. _What perfect timing the Northern king has._ Robb came out of nowhere, trailed by the Greatjon and Roose Bolton.

“It’s your sister’s mad dog again, your grace.” Ramsay choked out, still rubbing his neck, all laughter gone from his face in front of the king. “He just attacked me.”

Sandor surged forward, but was pushed back again by Gawen. “Don’t make this worse for yourself man.” Gawen grunted in his ear as Robb stalked forward.

 _Fuck._ Sandor wished he had given more thought to what Robb had wanted of him before. He thought back to last night, when he had come for him. _What was he so angry about? And why was Sansa there, looking so distraught? Is the bastard right? Did he find out about how I feel for Sansa? Or worse. Does he know the truth?_

He didn’t have time to decide for himself if that is what had happened. He didn’t have time to think of why it might have happened, nor did he have time to think of why Gawen was seemingly on his side in all of this. _Surely_ he _doesn’t know, at least._

“What’s the meaning of this Clegane?” Robb spat at him.

Sandor clenched his jaw. He looked over Robb’s shoulder to see Ramsay smiling broadly, but still rubbing at his reddening neck. Sandor looked back at Robb, looking as furious as ever.

 _If he knows about us,_ he decided, _what else would I have to lose?_

Sandor spoke through gritted teeth. “He’s the one who burned my tent on the kingsroad.”

Robb looked taken aback, clearly not expecting those words. “What?”

“The bastard just about admitted to it.”

Robb squinted his eyes at him. “You must still be drunk Clegane. Get some rest and prepare for the battle.”

The rage Sandor felt threatened to bubble over, he struggled to keep it in check when he shouted at the king. Sandor didn’t care who heard. “You mean you are choosing to believe the bastard. Even after what he said about Sansa!”

Robb spun on him, a look of disbelief crossing his features. “ _Princess_ Sansa, to the likes of you Hound. And how do I even know _that’s_ true anymore? Coming from you?”

Sandor huffed and felt his fists clench at his sides. “You are telling me that you trust that prick?”

Robb took a step forward and looked up at Sandor with all of the disdain he could muster, his voice quieter, but angrier than before. “I trusted _you_ with her protection. Her well-being. And look how you repaid me.” Sandor blinked and straightened his neck. _He knows. There is no doubting it now._ He had nothing to say, and that didn’t seem to matter to Robb. “How can I believe another word you say?” The king shook his head. “I’ll say it again. Get some rest. I will deal with you after tomorrow.”

Robb turned and left, the Boltons trailing behind him once more, Ramsay smirking in his direction all the while. Sandor turned and threw his fist into the nearest tree. _I don’t care if we are fighting on the same side. I’ll kill him._ He turned back around and saw Gawen standing there, a lost look on his face. Sandor clenched his throbbing hand, willing the pain to stay, willing himself to walk away, leave Gawen and his open mouth there on his own to figure it out for himself. But for some reason, he stayed. He figured he might just want to get it over with. Robb knew about him and Sansa. He couldn’t expect anything good from that. Might as well pile it all on at once. Gawen was going to ask about what Robb meant, he was sure of it.

Sandor looked at Gawen, ready for the inquisition. But he watched in astonishment as the man blinked, shook his head lightly and sighed. He crossed his arms and approached Sandor once more. “We need to do something about that bastard.”

 _What? Why isn’t he asking what Robb meant? The man can’t be_ that _thick?_ Sandor felt his eyes narrow and he slowed his breathing. “You don’t trust him?” He asked warily.

“No.” Gawen looked offended that he would suggest such a thing. “And I can’t be sure that King Robb does entirely either.”

He knew he shouldn’t mention the girl, but he just couldn’t understand why he wasn’t asking. So he tested the waters. “I’m sure you’ve seen the way he looks at Sansa.”

Gawen nodded thoughtfully. “What exactly did he say about Sansa? That you mentioned to the king?”

“It was in King’s Landing.” Sandor rubbed at his chin and looked at the man, and then at the ground as he walked back toward his cold bedroll. He heard Gawen following him. “You wouldn’t want to know.”

He turned and plopped down on his bedroll and looked up at Gawen who had settled in, leaning against the tree, his arms still crossed over his chest. “We can’t let him near Sansa anymore." The man said. "Once this mess is over, mayhaps we can convince the king that the Boltons are not the best company to keep.”

Sandor just offered a grunt in response, mentally stumbling over the word ‘we’, and finally gathering a grip on his rage.

“She had it pretty rough in King’s Landing for all that time, didn’t she?” Gawen asked.

Sandor cleared his throat. “She did.”

“I wonder if she’ll ever tell me about it.”

 _Is he really fucking talking about this to me right now?_   “If she does, I doubt it would be anytime soon.”

Gawen turned his head and looked down at Sandor. “Does she talk to _you_ about it?”

Sandor felt his jaw clench again. He blinked. “I was there.” He sniffed. “There’s nothing to tell me that I don’t already know.”

 _Here it comes._ Sandor knew whatever Gawen wanted to say, he was going to say it right then. Gawen nodded thoughtfully again. “Well… I’m glad she wasn’t alone then.” He pushed himself away from the tree and looked down at Sandor, a small smile on his lips. “I’m glad you were with her. Even now...”He trailed off. Sandor’s throat tightened, but he knew from years of practice that nothing would have shown on his ugly face.

“Even now…” Sandor started. _Just say it man. Get it over with._

But Gawen just smiled and sighed. He shook his head again. “Goodnight Clegane.”

Sandor watched him walk off into the night as he wrapped his cloak around himself. _So he knows. And he is doing nothing about it._ Sandor sighed and laid back against his bedroll. Strange man.

Sandor didn’t know how he got so lucky, keeping his head and all, after both her brother and her betrothed seemed to know something about their relationship.

At any rate, Gawen seemed to like him better than Ramsay. And at least, _that_ had to count for something. _If he wasn’t going to marry the woman I love, I might even like him._

 _Ramsay._ Sandor knew he wasn’t going to get much sleep that night, _not with the bastard here._ Sandor was sure of it now. He didn’t know how he might have done it, but he knew. _Ramsay Bolton is the one who caused the fire on the Kingsroad_.

 

 

They arrived sooner than expected. It was only late afternoon when Gawen said they were approaching and Robb wanted to stop to set a plan. Sandor kept his distance, but he still stayed close enough to hear what was going on.

“I’ll head to the gate on my own.” Gawen had offered. “They’ll know that you are all here. While they were senseless enough to do this, they have to know that I wouldn’t have come alone.”

Robb shook his head. “I won’t ask you to do that, to go out there on your own.”

Gawen all but ignored Robb’s protest. “I know how to get us inside if they open the gate or now. They will know this. It will work best for them to surrender now, with their lives, or suffer the consequences.”

The conversation lasted for a while, but in the end, it was decided that Gawen’s plan would work for the best. Robb had decided to let him choose a signal - his right fist raised to his shoulder – and if it were to be raised, it would mean it was time to fight. They would wait until sunset… Gawen smiled. “And then it will all be over.”

 

Sandor wasn’t sure of the exact amount of troops that stood behind them in the trees, just a few hundred to be sure, but he knew the Bolton men outnumbered the rest three to one. He hadn’t seen and of them fight, but he hoped they would be enough to get these Ironborn out of the North quickly.

They all watched as Gawen marched up the hill to the gate alone. Sandor still kept his distance, but he was close enough to sense Grey Wind’s unease. Stranger seemed to pulsate beneath him, but whether it was from anticipation or nerves, Sandor couldn’t tell. As for himself, Sandor knew Ramsay had been right about something else. He hadn’t killed since the man who tried to steal Sansa away. It felt good to be back in full armor. His fingers itched to pull his broadsword out of the scabbard on his back. He couldn’t say he wanted the whole battle. _Just give me a chance to slip my blade in between the bastard’s ribs and I’ll be happy._ Sandor kept an eye on him just to be sure. He still hung around his father, who wouldn’t leave Robb’s side.

It was all quiet as they watched Gawen make it to the gate. He had to squint to see, but the gate opened just slightly to let another man out. Even with the distance, Sandor could see that he was not all that comfortable on the back of his horse. _A true squid then._

There was no use in trying to hear anything they two men said to each other. It was several minutes of nodding, head shaking, pointing forward to the gate and back to the trees where they stood, hidden. They still waited for the signal. Sandor wasn’t sure they were going to get it.

But then he saw Gawen start to back away as the gate began to open. The man’s fist raised to his shoulder and with Robb’s swift command, they were off.

The next few moments were a blur. Gawen had turned and was speeding down the hill toward the rest of them. The gates opened wide, near one hundred Ironborn behind them, some on horseback, but most were afoot. Sandor could see swords, axes, bows. He heard himself laugh as he pushed Stranger forward, brandishing his sword, behind Robb, his wolf, his trusted men. And nothing that had happened in the last few days mattered in that moment. He had an opportunity to kill for the first time in too long and he wasn’t going to let those in the front cut everyone down before he even had a chance. He pushed Stranger on and was soon head to head with Roose Bolton, right behind Robb.

Sandor heard the arrows whistling through the air and narrowly missed one that fell to his right. Had Sandor not watched the arrow fall, he might never have seen Bolton’s sword reaching for the king.


	87. Chapter 87

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ummm.....  
> So I strangely found some time after work.  
> Here is a little one. But...you know... super devastating. To me anyway.  
> I actually yelled "NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" in my empty house when I wrote one of these lines.  
> Try and guess which one it was.

Sandor

He didn’t know how he lost Stranger. _If Sansa was here, he wouldn’t have spooked._

He’s lost count of the men he killed. All he knew was that most of them had just traveled with him from Winterfell to rescue Deepwood. But there was no thought of _why_. No time to think. Just kill. Kill anyone trying to kill him. Or the king.

It was a long time since he killed Roose Bolton. The sun had just begun to set then and now the remaining were plunged into darkness. Even then, when he had killed Bolton, there hadn’t been any thought. All he saw was the man’s sword just inches away from Robb’s neck and he reacted. He pushed Stranger to the right, into Bolton’s horse, causing the man to lose his balance - his aim. Cutting him down had been easy. It was the brief seconds after that were a confusing jumbled mess of trying to figure out who was attacking who. Robb hadn’t even noticed as he charged ahead to meet the Ironborn. It was those around Sandor who had. Sandor could see the shock on their faces as they seemed to try to figure out what they were going to do. And that’s when the rest of Bolton’s men turned.

At some point, he’d got an arrow under his left arm, but snapped the end off and didn’t let it stop him; not yet anyway.

He didn’t know how, but it was obvious to Sandor that Bolton’s forces were finally diminishing. Most of Bolton’s men had been young and strong. But that was all. Bolton must have recruited new men only just for this. But their young strength soon gave way to their inexperience as Sandor and the others around him tore through the boys like they were nothing.

Sandor kept near Robb, but the young king had made it abundantly clear, once he realized what was happening, that he did not need protection; he had his sword and his wolf. Every chance he had, Sandor looked back to see how he faired and was glad to see that the pair held their own in the mess.

The men coming at Sandor looked more and more weary as the battle wore on. He couldn’t help but laugh when one boy’s eyes widened when he saw who he was up against, before he turned and ran in the opposite direction.

On his last look, Sandor grinned when he saw Grey Wind at the neck of another bloody traitor.

That was when it happened.

“Clegane!”

He didn’t have a chance to look. Someone had knocked into him so hard that he was on the ground before he even knew it. Not having the chance to catch himself, he landed hard on his face, breaking his nose with a resounding crunch that reverberated through his trembling skull. He flipped over to his back, regaining a strong grip on his sword and looked up at the man who had knocked him down.

Gawen’s bright eyes were as wide as the hole cut through his back. The end of the sword stuck through his gut, gleaming red in the darkness. He fell to his knees in front of Sandor with a grunt before falling on his side to the ground. Sandor looked up again to ready himself for the killer. And he was there, the blood of other men on his face, smiling sickly and waiting… “You killed my father.”

 _Fuck_. Sandor was on his feet before the bastard’s arm could fall. Their swords met with a clash in the air in between them.

The fact that they were equally matched was obvious. Except Ramsay didn’t seem to have a scratch on him, whereas Sandor was up an arrow in the shoulder and a broken fucking nose. “Come on dog! Is this all you have for me?” Ramsay seemed to be enjoying himself thoroughly as they fought. His smile never faded, it only became wider the more frustrated Sandor became. Ramsay could see that he was injured. He could see that he was tired. Only bringing his broadsword had been a mistake, Sandor knew that now. But he was drunk when he left Winterfell and hadn’t been thinking.

Ramsay seemed to be getting frustrated that Sandor was doing more dodging and blocking than attacking. It only made the bastard faster with his sword and louder in his provoking words. “You know my men and I burned your tent.” Ramsay swung down at his legs, an attack that Sandor narrowly missed. “We followed your party all the way from King’s Landing, and not one of you ever noticed.” He laughed again, blocking another one of Sandor’s attempts. “Never thought the little princess would be the one to save you.” Sandor’s head throbbed in time with the pain in his shoulder as he blocked another swing. The thought of Sansa nearly tripped him up. Ramsay saw the nerve he struck and went in for the kill.

“Her betrothed, her brother, and her dog, all killed on the same day. She’ll need someone to comfort her, don’t you think?” He didn’t know how he let the bastard get into his head. But he finally succeeded. Sandor missed another block at his left leg, and all he felt was the deep tear of flesh near his groin and down his thigh. His grip loosened and Ramsay sent his sword flying out of reach. In the same moment, Sandor’s mangled leg stumbled and he fell over a body behind him and was on his back almost immediately. The vicious bastard standing over him, knowing he had won.

“Don’t worry dog. I’ll take good care of her.” Ramsay raised his sword once more and Sandor could see that he meant to take his ugly head clean off his neck.

He would have too; if not for the black beast that latched onto his shoulder and ripped off his arm - if not for the boy whose sword tore through the flesh of his leg.

Sandor didn’t think when Ramsay fell with a blood curdling scream to his knees. All he saw was the man backhanding Rickon with such a force that the boy was knocked out cold and sprawled on the ground in the same second. It wasn’t until Ramsay reached for the dagger at his belt with his remaining hand that Sandor remembered.

_Little bird._

Ignoring the blood flowing freely from his thigh, Sandor sat up in an instant and got to his knees, just mere inches away from Ramsay. He reached down and felt the dagger at his hip. Ramsay roared pitifully as he threw himself onto Sandor, dagger in hand. But in all of his pain, he was too slow. Sandor caught his wrist with his left hand and with his right, he sliced the one-armed bastard deep across the gut.

Ramsay’s gasp caught in his throat. Sandor felt Ramsay’s dagger clatter against his armor as it dropped from his hand. Sandor didn’t have to look down to know that Ramsay’s lifeblood was pouring out of him in seconds. Between his arm, his leg and now his stomach, Ramsay had to know he was a dead man. Sandor could see it in his pale eyes and he couldn’t help the way his lip turned up at the corner. _Finally shut him up._ He pushed Ramsay back and his body fell with a thud onto the cold ground.

Once he had Sansa’s bloody dagger back at his belt, he didn’t waste a moment. He tore off a length of fabric from his breeches where Ramsay had cut him. He could plainly see the meat and muscle of his flesh and tried not to think of the blood he must have already lost and he tied the fabric tight around his wound. He tried to stand, but fell back pathetically to the ground. He nearly bit through his tongue with the pain. _Crawling it is then._

The boy was close, so it only took him a moment. _If he’s injured, I’ll kill the fucker again._ “Rickon.” He reached and shook the boy, to no avail. He had a gash above his eye, but he was breathing. “Stupid boy.” Shaggydog seemed to have the situation under control. He nudged Sandor’s hand away and sniffed at the boy’s brow.

Sandor breathed deep and looked up. The battle seemed to be winding down and somehow it was far away. And then he remembered.

“Fuck.” Finding him in the crowd of bodies was easier than he thought it would be. Sandor grunted and pushed the pain away as he pulled himself along the ground with his one arm.

Gawen lay on his side, all but lifeless. As Sandor pulled himself closer, he could see his chest rise and fall with fast, short breaths. Sandor reached him and pushed him onto his back. The movement seemed to breathe new life into the man. Gawen gasped a shuddering breath and coughed dryly.

“Why would you do that, you fucking fool.”

In the moment it took for Gawen’s eyes to focus, Sandor found his wound and put his hand over it. Even in that second, Sandor could feel the blood protesting, seeping up between his fingers and out into the open air.

“Clegane.” Gawen choked out. “Fitting… your ugly face… the last one I get to look at.” Here he was dying, and the man still found it in him to laugh.

Sandor pressed harder on his stomach. “You’re home. We’ll get you to the maester. Fix your pretty face up nice for that wedding of yours.” Even as he said it, he knew what a lie it was. Gawen was a dead man. _Just like me._

“Stupid as you are ugly.” He laughed again and reached for Sandor’s hand on him. Gawen gripped lightly onto his wrist and pulled it away, letting the blood flow freely. Sandor felt his grip tighten ever so slightly and Gawen tried his best to focus on Sandor’s eyes. “Don’t let my father give Erena to the bastard.”

Sandor shook his head. “She can’t marry a dead man.” Sandor surprised himself with how happy he felt to see the man smile. He was even more surprised that the smile remained on Gawen’s face when he said what he did next. “Sansa always loved you…didn’t she?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Sandor felt himself nod. _Not the time to lie_. “For reasons I’ll never understand.”

Gawen blinked and nodded. His breaths becoming more shallow. “She deserves a good man.” He cleared his throat. “I guess you’ll do.” He gave another weak smile, still trying to joke on his death bed. When he coughed, it came up with a sputter of dark blood. “Watch after Erena. And Sansa…you’ll take care of her… won’t you?”

If this was the man’s dying wish, he didn’t want to ruin it by telling him that Erena would never hear his last words for her, or that Sansa was going to be without both of them soon. So he nodded. “Always have. Always will.”

Gawen blinked slowly and nodded. “Good.”

Sandor shook his head. _This isn’t right._ He looked up again, about to yell for help. And then he felt Gawen’s hand slip from his wrist. Sandor didn’t have to look at him to know he was dead.

Suddenly he couldn’t hold himself up anymore. He turned and fell onto his back. He stared up at the night sky, starting to get fuzzy at the edges of his vision. For the first time in the evening, he truly felt the cold.

Sandor reached down to his belt and felt the weirwood hilt of the dagger in his hand. He turned it with his fingers until he found the familiar carving of a little bird.

He felt his lip turn up at the corner as his eyes fell shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been planning it since the beginning. Y'all probably saw it coming... but there it is.


	88. Chapter 88

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn! I'm on a roll.  
> It's like summer all over again!

Sansa

It was three days since they left. Three days with no word. Three days since she slept. Maester Luwin said it was a head cold that she had gotten from being outside in the snow that night. But Sansa felt that the pounding in her head, the scratchiness of her throat was her penance for everything that had happened before they left.

She kept her cup of wine full when she sat with her mother, Erena and Roslin for meals. On the third day since they left Sansa couldn’t take it anymore. After her fourth cup she pushed her chair back with a scrape against the stone floor. “I’m going to the godswood.”

“Sansa, you shouldn’t be outside, you’re sick!” Catelyn called after her as she made it to the door.

“Mother, if I stay in here any longer I am going to lose my mind.”

She ignored the scandalized look from Catelyn and strode out the door. She found her cloak and wrapped it tightly around herself before trekking across the snow in the yard and to the gates of the godswood.

Sansa stared into the somber eyes of the heart tree. First, she prayed for Rickon’s safe return. For some reason, she felt that she was at fault for his escape. She prayed for Gawen to make it out alive. She prayed for Robb to forgive her. But most of all, she prayed for Sandor.

 _Gods. Please don’t let anything happen to him._ She wiped a tear away from her cheek that slipped out from under her closed eyes. _I don’t know what I would do with myself. Please. Please please please…_

“Good evening, Princess.”

Sansa opened her eyes whipped her head around to face the voice that disturbed her.

“Good evening, Ser Darol.” She rasped out.

Why Robb chose to let him stay here was infuriatingly frustrating to Sansa. Robb, Rickon, Gawen and Sandor were all brave enough to go out to fight. And Darol was there, taking up space in _her_ godswood. She turned back around to face the heart tree and closed her eyes once more.

“For whom do you pray?” Darol said softly. Sansa opened her eyes and stared into the mouth of the tree. _For no one if you keep talking._ He didn’t seem to understand. “Your brothers. Your betrothed to be sure… and your Hound.”

Sansa felt her shoulders rise and fall with the deep breath it took to calm her down. She wanted to bite his head off, but for some reason, the right words escaped her, and she couldn’t find the energy to actually do it. _Besides,_ she thought, _is he really saying anything wrong?_

“I’ve seen all of them fight.” He went on. “They will be fine, I’m sure of it. Especially that man of yours.”

With the way he said it, Sansa thought it sounded like he meant Gawen. But she knew he meant Sandor. She didn’t know how she should feel about that – if she should worry about him possibly knowing. But it finally sounded as if he was done talking.

So she turned to him. “Thank you.” She rasped again, so quietly if he hadn’t seen her mouth move in the dark, he probably would not have known she said anything.

He bent his head toward her. “I’ll leave you to pray then. Goodnight Princess.”

Sansa nodded ever so slightly at the man before he turned and walked away toward the gate. It was the first thing she’d said to him, ever since he apologized for what happened on her nameday.

She looked back at the tree to pray again but the snow soaked through to her knees and she couldn’t find the words anymore. When she finally got to bed, she decided it was the wine, her exhaustion and the dull ache in her head that finally pushed her over the edge and into a restless, shallow sleep.

 

It was Shae who woke her. “Sansa.”

Her eyelids felt like they were weighed by bags of sand when she struggled to open them in the “Sansa. You need to wake up.” There was no urgency in her tone. Only a somber reluctance. It wasn’t until Sansa saw the tears threatening to spill over Shae’s eyes that she fully awoke.

“ _Sandor_.”

Shae shook her head immediately. “Not Sandor. At least… I don’t know.”

Sansa sat up straight in the bed and grabbed Shae by the shoulders. “Tell me!”

“It’s Gawen.” Shae nodded, like she was still trying to believe it herself. “Gawen was killed.”

 

Sansa couldn’t believe it. She didn’t know how to process it. All she could do was cry. She was sobbing uncontrollably in the corner, trying to keep away from Erena, whose grief took over her in a completely different way.

“I knew.” Erena croaked out, the tears flowing completely silently down her pretty face. “I knew it was going to happen. The second Maester Luwin came in with the letter.”

Roslin sat next to her, her arm around her shoulder. The girl did not lean into her embrace, nor did she push her away. She merely sat straight as a rod, her eyes looking empty and straight ahead. “Erena, how could you have known the Boltons were going to betray us?” Roslin asked.

“I didn’t know _that_.” Erena answered in a monotone voice. “I just had a feeling. As soon as he left. I just knew.”

Sansa felt another sob go through her. The last time Erena got to speak to her only brother and she had been there and got in their way. They should have been alone.

Robb’s letter arrived in the early morning. He must have sent it as soon as the battle had ended. To say that she was surprised about the Bolton’s attempted uprising was not exactly true. It made perfect sense when she thought about it. _So Roose had worked with the ironborn to make this happen. He’d whispered into Robb’s ear for the last three years. Robb trusted him, made him the second most powerful man in the kingdom of the North. And this was how he repaid him._

Sansa didn’t want to think about what might have happened if the Bolton’s were not put down. She knew two things for sure. Roose would have taken over Winterfell as King in the North. And she would have been made to marry Ramsay. Which was worse, she could not say.

_So Robb is alive. Rickon is safe with him. Gawen is dead. But Sandor?_

There was no notice of her shield. Sansa knew she couldn’t ask for him, not while Erena mourned the loss of her brother. Not while she was supposed to be mourning the loss of her betrothed.

And she _was_. Gawen is – _was_ … an incredible man. He didn’t deserve to die like this. Betrayed in the way he was. Sansa tried to picture his perfect face without his modest smile, without the warmth that emanated from his eyes – and she couldn’t do it.

But Sansa was convinced that not knowing about Sandor was going to cause her to lose her bloody mind. She wondered selfishly is Robb had purposely not written of his fate just to hurt her after finding out what they had done. Or worse. What if he was protecting her from finding out the truth until he could tell her in person? _What if Sandor was killed too?_

 

It wasn’t until later in the day that Sansa finally let herself ask. She sat with her mother and Roslin at the evening meal – Erena wanted to be alone in her room - and none of them had touched their food.

Sansa knew the answer, but she figured she might ask, all the same, at least to bring up the subject. “Mother.”

“Hmm?” Catelyn had been staring off into the distance, eyes focusing on nothing.

Sansa swallowed her nerves, cleared her aching throat and asked. “Did Robb give word of Sandor?”

Catelyn looked up at Sansa, a confused look on her face. Sansa thought she was about to scold her for asking such a thing. But she didn’t. “No.” She shook her head. “He didn’t. I wonder why.”

 _Alright_ , Sansa thought, _so it wouldn’t be a strange thing to wonder then._ She had to admit that it was a little upsetting to see that her mother clearly hadn’t thought of the man who had kept her daughter safe for the last several years. But Catelyn looked at her in the eye and spoke again. “Maybe, since he didn’t say anything… it must mean he’s unharmed.”

Sansa swallowed. “And if not?”

“He would have sent word, I’m sure.” Even as she said it, Catelyn looked like she didn’t believe the words that were coming out of her mouth. “But they did seem to be arguing right before they left.” She continued. “What was it about? Do you know?”

Sansa stared down at her plate. _Gods please don’t ask me this. Sandor says I’m a terrible liar._ Sansa looked up when she remained silent. Catelyn didn’t ask her anything, but looked at her daughter expectantly. She knew she had to say something. “It was nothing… “ She scraped out.”…just as Roslin said.” Catelyn narrowed her eyes. But she sighed and turned away. _She doesn’t believe me._ But she seemed too exhausted to push the issue, _thank the gods._

“I’m sure he’s fine.” She said again.

Sansa slumped in her chair, ever so slightly. _What if she is right? What if I am just over reacting?_

_…or…_

What if Robb killed Sandor before the battle even happened. Or… _Gods_. Sansa had a brief image in her head. Sandor sticking Gawen through with his sword in the midst of the battle. She shook her head and the thought away with it. _He would never. He could never._

She cleared her throat when another thought came to her. “Do you think it would be alright if I sent him a letter?”

“Who?” Catelyn looked confused again.

“Robb. I just… I want to check in with him.”

“Sansa.” Her mother’s voice was suddenly stern. “Robb won’t have a moment to answer you about Clegane.”

“No. That’s not-“

“I would advise against it.” She interrupted her.

Sansa looked down at her hands on her lap and felt her cheeks redden. After a few moments of an awkward silence, Sansa excused herself and made her way to her room.

Her mother may have advised her against it, but after another sleepless night, Sansa made her way to the rookery with a letter in hand.

 

_Robb,_

_I am so glad to hear that you have made it out of this dreadful battle alive. I am so very sorry for the betrayal you must feel at this moment. Whatever you need as we recover from this treachery, I will be here for you._

_Erena is handling the news of Gawen better than expected. I am afraid that I am not quite sure how to react. She needs to go home. That is the only thing she wants. When do you think we can bring her back?_

_I just have one more thing to say. I am sorry for the way we fought before the battle. I truly am. Robb, if you still bear any love for me, please, let me know if Sandor is alright._

_Give my love to Rickon._

_Sansa_

 

He must know why she would be contacting him and she wouldn’t insult him any more than she already had by trying to hide her true intentions under other words. She wanted to know how Sandor was, so she asked, simple as that.

She watched the raven fly east in the cold of the early morning, and prayed that Robb would be swift in his reply.

 

Sansa could barely eat. She had barely slept. She was still sick as a dog. She couldn’t respond when Shae or Roslin had tried to talk to her. For the most part, she sat in silence with Erena. She hadn’t even spoken to her since the men had left, and though it seemed that they were comfortable in each other’s company, it also seemed that neither of them felt there was anything to say.

 

His breath was in her ear as he slept, sending a warm chill down her spine. She pushed herself back against his chest and he snaked his arm around her middle.

“Where are you?” She whispered sleepily, her eyes still closed.

“I’m here, little bird.” He sighed sleepily.

She wrapped her hand over his and gripped onto his fingers. “But you left.”

She heard him sigh again as he settled in, pulling her closer to him, nuzzling into the crook of her neck. “I’ll never leave you.”

She woke from her dream to a dark room in a cold and empty bed. She turned, knowing full well that she wouldn’t feel him there, but she still felt her stomach drop seeing it for sure.

That was the first night she left her own bed to go sleep in his. She had to admit, it was easier to fall asleep surrounded by his scent, but it only made her feel worse in the early mornings as she woke up alone.

 

It was nearly a week before she heard word. And when it came, it wasn’t through raven.

Sansa was walking back from the rookery for the third time that day as the sun began to set behind the clouds. She thought it was just another dream, or that her reluctance to eat finally gave way to hallucinations, when he came bounding up to her. The black wolf stopped before he could knock her over, and he rubbed giant head against her side, where she stood stock still.

Grey Wind was right behind Shaggydog, and their masters not far after them.

Just a small percentage of the men who left had returned, Robb and Rickon at the forefront of the small group. Sansa ran as fast as her feet could take her to meet them as they came through the gate.

Rickon hopped off of his horse before the animal even fully stopped. Sansa gathered her baby brother up in her arms the instant he hit the ground. She shocked herself as new tears fell freely from her eyes.

“I was so mad at you!” She grated out, sounding nothing like herself, as she tightened her grip on him. “If anything happened to you, I would never forgive myself.” Rickon loosened his arms around her and she reluctantly let go. She held onto his shoulders and got a good look at his face. He had a nasty cut above his eye. Sansa ignored his protests and pressed her lips to the purple skin around it.

“What happened to you?” She murmured against his head before he pushed her away again. She finally got a good look at his eyes. They were watery, and full of an emotion that she couldn’t exactly place. “Rickon.” Her fingers dug into his shoulders. “Tell me. What is it?”

Rickon shook his head and looked to the side, his jaw moving from side to side as he ground his teeth. “I was too late.”

Sansa felt herself breathe in deeply. “Too late for what?” He bit his lip and wiped an angry tear away with the heel of his hand. Sansa swallowed back the bile that rose in her throat. “Rickon…. Where is he? Where is Sandor?” Her voice cracked when she said his name and only then did Rickon look up at her. He hesitated for a moment, but it felt like years. And then he shook his head.

Sansa felt a fist clench around her throat and she made herself look up. And she saw him. A rope tied to his bridle and attached to the pommel of the horse and rider next to him. Stranger, alone, without so much as a saddle on his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yea.....
> 
> Ok happy note... found 2 coworkers who write fan fiction!!! I didn't know they actually existed in real life!  
> I was a happy teacher nerd yesterday, even though we write in completely different fandoms ha!
> 
> Ok yea so misery right?  
> We'll find out what happened next chapter. I promise.


	89. Chapter 89

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A gift for Back to the Future day!

Sansa

Sansa felt a warm, wet pressure brush against her cheek. She moaned and turned her head away, before opening her eyes. All she could see was the black fur of Shaggydog. She feebly pushed him away, only to be licked across the face again. _What am I doing in bed? Why is Shaggy here?_ Sansa turned her face away to the right and saw her little brother sitting with his legs crossed at the bottom of her bed. “Are you going to hit me again?” He asked. The room was dark, but she could still see the apprehension in his eyes.

“Hit you?” Sansa groaned when she felt the scrape of a white hot poker in her throat.

Rickon sighed and crawled forward to the top of the bed. He reached over her and Shaggy and came back with a cup.

“Here.” He tilted it toward her lips and supported her head as she drank back a warm and tasteless liquid.

Once she swallowed, and he lowered her heavy head back on her pillow, she cleared her throat and asked. “Sandor?”

“He’s not dead Sansa.” From the way he said it, the words offered her little relief.

“Then where is he?” She croaked out.

“Deepwood.”

“Why?” She reached out to him. “Rickon tell me.”

Rickon looked down at his knees. “He’s…he hasn’t woken up yet.”

“Woken up?”

Rickon groaned and wiped a hand across his face. “The battle. It was a mess Sansa.” Sansa closed her eyes and tried to mentally prepare herself for what she was about to hear. “It was Ramsay. He killed Gawen.” Her eyes snapped open and her hand flew to her mouth. “Gawen, he saw Ramsay coming up on Sandor. But…Gawen, he…he pushed Sandor out of Ramsay’s way. He got killed for it.” Sansa’s vision became blurry as she started to cry and Rickon continued. “Sandor and Ramsay fought. But Sansa… Sandor was beaten up… bad. His face was a bloody mess. It looked like he was struggling to hold his sword. I know now it was from the arrow in his shoulder.” Sansa’s stomach flipped. Rickon just looked down in disbelief. “I’ve never seen him like that.”

Sansa licked her lips and tried to steady her breathing. “So you saw all of this?”

Rickon nodded. “I watched it. I watched all of it.” He scoffed at himself. “I did nothing at all. Not until…” He paused for a moment before moving closer to her. ”Sansa…I saw Sandor was going to lose. So…so Shaggy and I…we ran out there.”

“Rickon!” She tried to sit up, but he reached forward and pushed her back.

“It’s alright Sansa. I’m fine.” He sighed and continued. “I don’t know how much you are going to want to hear.”

Sansa shook her head. “Everything. I need to know everything.”

Rickon only paused a moment. Sansa reached over to Shaggydog and tried to calm her shaking hand by rubbing his head between the ears. “If we came just a second earlier, Ramsay would have missed Sandor’s leg.” Sansa felt a chill go down her spine and she gripped into Shaggy’s fur. “He fell. And Ramsay was going to kill him, right there.” Rickon looked over at his wolf. “But Shaggy got there first. He ripped Ramsay’s arm clean off. I only cut him through the leg.”

Sansa was frozen. She didn’t know what to say. _So Ramsay had almost killed Sandor. Gods. What would I have done if Rickon didn’t leave Winterfell when he did?_

She couldn’t let herself think of it when Rickon continued. “Then Ramsay hit me and knocked me out. When I woke up I was in a bed, Osha was there and Robb standing over me, crying like a baby.” He laughed under his breath, but Sansa knew he was trying to hide his own emotions.

“So Sandor…”

“He finished Ramsay off I guess.” He shrugged again. “But, when I woke up, I made Robb take me to see him. Sansa he’s…” Rickon shook his head. “They don’t think he’s going to make it. The blood, they said, the blood loss was just too much. Ramsay cut his thigh in such a way that…” He trailed off and shook his head, obviously preferring not to finish.

“He won’t die.” Sansa started to sit up, ignoring the pounding protesting in her head. Rickon helped her by maneuvering her pillows, though Shaggy didn’t help by spreading out more into the extra space she had made.

“But that’s the thing Sansa.” Rickon started. “They are all saying he is going to. That’s why… that’s why we left without him.”

“No.” She shook her head. “He can’t die.” She laughed at the ridiculousness of it. “ _Sandor Clegane_ cannot _die_. You must be out of your mind. Or the maester is. It’s not possible.”

She didn’t care that her brother backed away from her, looking like she was mad. “Sansa.” He grabbed her hand even though he seemed to be wary of this crazy woman she had just become. “I saw him. I was with him. He’s as white as snow. His breathing was so shallow I thought…I thought he was dead already. And that was nearly three days ago now.”

Sansa pulled her hand away. “Don’t say that. Don’t you say that.” The hysteria was building up quickly in her chest. “You are the only other one who cares about him. If you give up...then…” She shook her head and sat up straighter. “I have to go to him.”

“What? Sansa, don’t be crazy!”

She pushed the covers away from her overheating body. “He needs me.”

“And how would you get there? Half of Robb’s men have just been killed! Who is going to help you get there now?”

“I’ll talk to Robb. He will help me figure something out.”

“Sansa… are you… are you serious? After what just happened?”

Sansa raised her chin. “Surely, he can find it in his heart to forgive me for what Sandor and I have done. After all of this. None of that should matter anymore.”

“What? Sansa. No!” Her brother looked terribly confused. “You mean… you mean you don’t remember?”

Sansa froze. “Remember? Remember what?”

“Oh.” Rickon’s eyes widened. “You may want to lie back down then.”

“Rickon!” She snapped, the harshness of her voice amplifying the ache in her throat. “Tell me now!”

When he did, she couldn’t believe what he said. She didn’t remember standing and walking away from Rickon in the yard when he returned. She didn’t remember pulling Roslin away from her husband. Nor did she remember beating at Robb’s chest and screaming. She didn’t remember hitting Rickon when he tried to hold her back. She didn’t remember Robb throwing her over his shoulder. She didn’t remember losing consciousness.

“Seven hells.” She leaned back against the pillows and headboard again. “What did I say to him?”

Rickon cleared his throat uncomfortably. “ _You killed him… How could you do this to me… I love him_ …” Her brother shrugged as she reddened deeper and deeper. “More of the same. Anyone around must have thought you were talking about Gawen."

Sansa shut her eyes, her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry.” She shook her head.

After a moment of silence, the sound that came from her brother shocked her. “No. I’m sorry Sansa. It’s all my fault.” His voice cracked and she opened her eyes. She’d never seen Rickon cry, not like this. Despite his sobs, he went on. “I was too late. I could have killed him before he killed Gawen. Before he hurt Sandor.”

“Rickon. No!” She protested. “You can’t tell yourself that.”

Her little brother just shook his head. “Shaggy tried to run to the battle earlier, but I held him back. I was…. I was too afraid.” He wiped his dripping nose and sucked in another shuddering breath.

“Rickon. No! You were so brave!” She tried, but nothing she said calmed him down. She reached over and tried to pull him close to her.

They stayed like that for a while with her arm around him. Rickon sobbing messy tears, she crying soft quiet ones, Shaggy with his head on her lap.

There were a few things that Sansa knew, but that she needed time to process. Gawen had been killed by Ramsay when he had pushed Sandor out of harm’s way. _Why would he do that?_ Rickon fought in a _real_ battle against a real enemy and he and his wolf were probably the only reason Sandor was still alive. Rickon and Shaggy had injured Ramsay and Sandor killed finally him. She had clearly lost her mind when she had seen Stranger alone, and she needed to apologize to Robb.

But most of all, she needed to see Sandor. He needed to be alright. There was no other option.

 

“Robb. I…I can’t tell you how sorry I am. My behavior…”

She was hoping he would take over the discussion. She didn’t know where to start when he let her into his solar, so she just went for it. She thought he would scold her. Yell at her. Something! But he did none of that. When she finally gathered up the nerve to see him the next day, when her head had stopped throbbing, he just looked broken. She knew that he had just spoken to Erena about Gawen and about getting her home. She would have to wait some time, and it was obvious that she gave her king a hard time about that. “Robb.” She begged. “Please. Forgive me.”

Robb shook his head and Sansa’s breath caught in her throat. She went to protest, but then he finally spoke. “I didn’t know how to tell you. That’s why I didn’t answer your letter.” He shook his head and sighed, opening a drawer in his desk. When he reached in, Sansa never expected him to produce what he did.

“Where did you get this?” She asked him, frozen to the spot.

“He was found holding it.”

Sansa’s hand clenched in her lap as she looked at the dagger. “I had it made for him.”

“Its beautiful work. Didn’t seem right to leave it with-“ He stopped short. _With a dead man_ , she was sure he was going to say.

Sansa swallowed. She ignored what she knew he was thinking and asked what she had been wanting to. “Are you still angry with me? About…” She could feel her face warm. “…you know.”

Robb sighed and slumped back into his chair. “I don’t know Sansa.” He ran a hand over his jaw, clearly exasperated with her. “I have too much to think about. I can’t…I don’t even-“

“It’s alright.” She interrupted. “I’m sorry. I know you have too much to think about right now.” She leaned forward. “I truly meant what I said. If there is anything I can do to help – I don’t know what it would be but – I am here for you.”

Robb just blinked slowly and nodded.

Sansa knew he wanted her to leave. But she had to ask. She took a breath before she did. Her voice was a rasping whisper. “When can I go to him?”

Robb’s eyes narrowed. “Go to him? Sansa. Rickon said he told you.”

“Told me what?”

“How bad it was.”

“He did. He also told me that when you left, he was alive...”

“Sansa.”

“I don’t blame you for leaving him there, especially after everything, but…I need to be with him. Especially now.”

She thought, for a second, that he was going to agree. But of course he wouldn’t. “I can’t afford the men to bring you. I can’t.”

Sansa gulped and ignored the pain in her throat. “I need to be with him. He needs me.”

Robb reached forward and looked her straight in the eye. “I’m sorry Sansa.” He put his hand over hers. “I truly am. But you need to listen to me.” His grip tightened, not ungently, on her hand. “If he isn’t already dead, then he will be, any moment.”

Sansa flinched at his words, but leaned forward, determined as ever. “Then how could you keep me from him?”

“It’s out of the question Sansa. _Please._ Stop.”

“But Robb-“

“The answer…” He breathed in and released it slowly to keep his cool. “Is no.”

Sansa slipped her hand away from his grip and looked down at her lap. A silence stretched on so long that Sansa could have sworn he left the room. But when she looked up, she saw her brother like she had never seen him before. His head in his hands, being propped up by his elbows on his desk. Sansa scooted her chair back as quietly as she could and he didn’t look up even then. She reached onto the desk and took the dagger in her hand. She turned toward the door.

“Sansa.” She kept moving. “ _Sansa_. He saved my life.”

Sansa stopped, her hand on the door. “He did?”

She turned back around and saw Robb nodding at her. “Only two of my men who survived saw it. Roose Bolton, aiming to stab me in the back. Clegane cut him down before he had the chance.”

She was silent for a moment. _If he doesn’t care if Sandor lives or dies, why is he telling me this?_ “Then I’m glad he was with you.” Sansa didn’t care if he saw her eyes well up. “And I hope that makes you reconsider.”

 

He didn’t. Not for the rest of the day. And by the time the sun went down, Sansa had made her decision. She didn’t care that she was only just recovering from being ill. She needed to leave. She was quiet as the family ate, Catelyn humbly overjoyed that both of her sons made it home safely. It was a somber meal and Erena’s absence only made it more so. Even though her weak stomach protested, Sansa made sure she cleared her plate. Her mother commented on her appetite, happy to see Sansa eating again. But she made sure she stayed clear of the wine. She needed a clear head for what she was about to do.

Sansa stayed with her mother in her solar until an appropriate time and made to go to her room and said goodnight. She made her way to her room and packed a bag. She put in an extra dress, small clothes, warm stockings, extra gloves. She dressed herself warmly and fastened her fur lined cloak. Before she left the room, something stopped her. She ran back to her chest and dug in deep for the cloak. She shoved it in her bag and grabbed the dagger off the table on the way out.

Sansa made her way to the kitchen in the darkness and was lucky enough to avoid anyone who might spoil her plan. She picked up two loaves of bread from a basket, a few apples and a chunk of hard cheese wrapped in a cloth. She put everything in her bag and made sure it was secure. She was about to grab a skin of wine when the sound of footsteps approaching stopped her. She crouched down behind the counter just in time. Someone was rifling through the flagons of wine, she could hear. She risked a peek and saw that it was none other than Mallory. _Of course. Stealing wine in the middle of the night._ Sansa rolled her eyes as the girl left. She waited another moment before getting up, grabbing a wineskin and pushing into the outside.

It was cold, but not as cold as she thought it could be. She knew she would be dressed warmly enough, but internally worried if the exposure would just make her more sick. Sansa hurried to the stables before anyone could notice her. She was in her chestnut’s stall before he came up on her and she didn’t even hear him until he spoke.

“No offense Sansa-“ She gasped and turned around. “-but you are being kind of stupid.”

“Rickon. Don’t you dare try to stop me.”

“Stop you?” Her brother shook his head. Only then did she notice his attire; dressed for the cold, a similar bag in hand, his sword at his side. “I’m not trying to stop you. I just mean you are being stupid in your choice of horse.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll take Stranger.” He shrugged. “Obviously.”

He said it so matter of fact-ly that Sansa was in shock. “You mean… you won’t tell.”

“Of course not. I’m coming with you.”

“What?” _No way_. “You only just came back!”

“I don’t care. I shouldn’t have left my friend. Besides, Shaggy and I got there on our own. We know where to go. You don’t.”

“Sure I do, I was just there!”

“And how much attention did you pay to the roads? Or were you just thinking about Sandor and that pretty face of his?”

 _Oh. He may have a point_. “I suppose you’re right.” She finally admitted.

“I know I am. Let’s go.” He waved her over as he turned in Stranger’s direction. “I’ll help you.”

“Oh.” Sansa knew how big Stranger was, but she only ever rode him twice in the past. One of the times she was unconscious. The second, Sandor had lifted her up into the saddle. Even then, she had never tried to exert any control over the beast. She knew they had a strong connection - that he respected her - but that was when her feet were on the ground. _Will it be the same when I try to ride him?_

“Here.” Rickon came huffing down the aisle with an enormous saddle in his arms. Sansa watched in amazement as he prepped Stranger for departure. She helped him where she could by smoothing down the saddle blanket and buckling the straps of his saddle. She emptied the heavier contents of her bag into the saddlebags at his side. When they were finished, Sansa took a step back and looked at the horse.

 _He’s just too big!_ “There’s no way he’s going to listen to me Rickon!”

Rickon just rolled his eyes and brought over a step stool. “Yes he will. You’re the only one he likes. Even over Sandor.” Stranger harrumphed, as if backing up Rickon’s argument.

Sansa had to bite back her nerves as Rickon helped her onto the stool and pushed her up onto Stranger’s back. She overcorrected and almost flew off the other side of the saddle. Stranger whinnied and Rickon gasped, but she caught herself on the pommel and pulled herself back up. The beast absolutely dwarfed her when she was on her own. Rickon pushed open the stall and Sansa tapped her heels into Stranger to get him into the aisle. He listened. She walked him up and down the empty stables, letting him get used to the different weight and pressure she offered. Miraculously, he did exactly what she asked of him. If it was any other creature, she never would have had any control. But Stranger knew her. He listened to her commands. He trusted her.

She stayed back as Rickon mounted his horse. Sansa didn’t give it a second thought, leaving on her own. But now that Rickon was willing too, she noticed that their mission may be dangerous, as well as foolhardy. She took note of Rickon’s sword at his slender hip. She looked at Shaggy as he paced by the door of the stable. She felt the strength of Stanger underneath her. She reached in her bag and felt the weirwood handle of Sandor’s dagger. _It will have to do._

“You ready?” Rickon asked her, pulling his hood up over his head. Sansa nodded and did the same.

How they managed to slip past the guard was beyond Sansa. Rickon seemed to know exactly how to do it. The castle was quiet in the darkness and she didn’t see any guards on their way out the east gate. _I’ll have to tell Robb of their blunder when we all return!_

“We’ll have to ride fast. Can you keep up?” Rickon asked when they were safely outside the gate. Sansa nodded and put her heels into Stranger, knowing full well that as long as she held on, he would take her where she needed to go.

 

The sun was only starting to peek above the clouds when they were found. Shaggy heard the hooves in the cold ground first. He stopped short in front of Rickon and the boy had to quickly maneuver his horse around the beast.

They just happened to be in a clearing, not making it to the density of the deep forest just yet. There was nowhere to hide. So they went faster. Shaggy led the way, cold dirt kicking up from the way his claws dug into the earth. Sansa begged the rider in her mind.

_Please let us go. I need to be with him. I need him._

“Wait!” It was the strange call that cut off her thoughts. “Sansa! Wait for me!” The soft voice was not one she was expecting.

She pulled back on Stranger’s reins and yelled ahead to her brother, ignoring the strain on her throat. “Rickon! Stop!” After a moment, she could see in the grey morning light that he had. Sansa turned in the saddle.

The girl behind her was going so fast that she went past Sansa before she could stop. When she moved up to the girl, she could see that she was as breathless as Sansa.

“I’m coming with you.” Erena panted. “Take me home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this all ready to post an hour away right before I left work. I connect my trusty laptop to the wifi and guess what! AO3 is blocked on the district server! So, I'm sorry that it's later then I wanted, but I posted it while still in the car in my driveway heh.
> 
> Ok so, thing are looking up.....?


	90. Chapter 90

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for 40k hits. Insanity. Love you all.  
> Sorry for any typos. It's late and I haven't started lesson plans yet!

Sansa

All Sansa could do was nod at Erena. She was in such a state of shock, she never would have expected her to come all this way on her own.

Rickon came back to them already asking questions. “When did you leave?”

Erena shrugged. “An hour after you two?”

“And no one was looking for us yet?” Erena shook her head. “And you weren’t seen.” She shook her head again. “Good. Let’s go. We can break when we get into deeper woods.”

“You really think they won’t find us?” Erena asked.

“Not if you two listen to me. Even Osha couldn’t find me last time.” He looked immensely proud of himself for such a young boy. “Come on!”

And then they were off again.

They slowed in the afternoon. When the sun was setting again they were in the safety of the trees so Rickon let them stop. When they had originally slowed, Sansa started to cough here and there. Now that they had stopped, she couldn’t seem to stop coughing every couple of minutes.

Once they dismounted, Sansa could see that the others were just as tired as she was. Erena’s legs wobbled like a newborn fawn when her feet touched the ground. Rickon’s back was already in the dirt, his arms splayed out to the side as he looked up into the canopy of the trees.

Sansa barely even made it that far. Once she managed to swing her leg around to the other side of the saddle, she lost her balance and slipped right off of Stranger. She yelped as she fell and screamed when she landed. She heard the pop first. The pain that shot through her ankle was like nothing she ever felt.

Rickon and Erena were over her in just seconds.

“Bloody buggering hells!” She cried out, rolling in the dirt, trying to make the pain in her left ankle stop.

Erena grabbed her by the shoulders. “What is it?!”

“I landed on my foot wrong.” Sansa rasped through gritted teeth. “My ankle! It’s broken!”

“Was that what that sound was?” Rickon asked.

Sansa moaned and Erena swatted at the unhelpful boy. “I’m going to look at it Sansa.” Erena told her cautiously. “I need to take off your boot.”

Sansa nodded and Erena got to work. By the way just the gentle tug of untying her laces hurt, Sansa knew it had to be snapped in two.

“I’ll know if it’s broken.” Erena said as she slipped off the boot. “I broke mine a few years ago, climbing up the rocks in the Bay of Ice, believe it or not.”

“Oh, I believe it.” Sansa croaked out with another rough cough.

Erena laughed lightly. Sansa realized it was the first time she saw the girl smile since Gawen left.

She tilted her head back as Erena reached for her fast swelling ankle. “This is going to hurt.” She told her. Sansa gritted her teeth and managed not to cry out as Erena grasped her stocking covered foot in her cold hands and rotated it.

“How bad is it?” Rickon asked, hovering upside down above her head.

Sansa opened her eyes and looked at him. “It’s pretty bad Rickon!” She snapped and started coughing again, covering her mouth with her gloved hand.

“Alright! I get it!” Her brother said, backing away.

After another minute of Erena’s rotating and pressing, Sansa couldn’t take anymore. “Gods. Erena please stop.”

Erena let go of her like she was aflame. “I don’t think it’s _broken_. Maybe just twisted?”

“How can you be sure? It _feels_ broken!”

Erena shrugged and sat back on her heels. “When mine broke, it kept cracking. But this is just… popping. It feels like you just twisted it.”

“I hope you’re right.” Sansa sighed and put her head on the ground, her hood protecting her from the dirt. “What do I do now?”

“Do you want me to try wrapping it?”

Sansa nodded at the leaves in the trees above her. “There should be something in my bag. I brought an old dress.”

Erena rose up on her feet slowly and Sansa looked down her nose to watch her go. Sansa could see, it was obvious, that the girl was saddle sore. She got to the saddlebag on Stranger, whom seemed to be faring well, and dug around for a moment.

“You don’t want to use part of your dress do you?” Erena asked. “What about this?”

Sansa saw a flash of faded white in her hands. “No!” She shouted so loud and started coughing again.

Once she regained her composure, she spoke, her voice more feeble than ever. “The skirt of the dress. I hate that dress.” It was the ugly brown sack. After another second she had another thought. “The wine too. There’s wine in the bag.”

“Oh, _here we go_.” She heard Rickon mutter his breath behind her.

“Shut up Rickon!” She screeched out.

“I’m just saying! Bad things tend to happen when you drink. I can only assume you two were drunk when you broke the-“

“Rickon!”

“Oh.” His eyes widened when he realized. “Sorry.”

Sansa felt a furious blush on her cheeks. _Gods! What does he think he’s doing?! Trying to say that in front of Erena._ She chanced a look at the girl who happened to be looking at Rickon with narrowed eyes as she came back to kneel by Sansa.

“I guess we’re staying here for the night?” Rickon asked, already forgetting about his near blunder.

“We need a break Rickon.” Erena begged. “Please.”

Rickon sighed. “Well, we need to get off the road at least. I’ll find somewhere for us to rest.” And he and Shaggy disappeared through the trees as Erena got to work on Sansa’s injury.

Sansa’s nails dug into her palms as Erena worked to wrap a cut piece of her ugly dress tightly around her swollen, throbbing ankle. “I think that’s the best I can do. At least until we get home.” Erena passed her the flagon of wine and Sansa took one long sip, letting the bitter liquid coat her aching throat.

“Thank you Erena.” The girl just nodded and started to fold up what remained of Sansa’s hideous dress. With Rickon gone, and Sansa’s whining silenced, it suddenly got too quiet and maybe even a little bit awkward. She wondered how much worse it would be if she didn’t stop Rickon from saying what he almost did.

And then she realized something. She and Erena hadn’t spoken since Gawen and Sandor left for Deepwood. She didn’t know what, if anything, she could say to the girl. _What do we even have in common, besides her brother? And without him…_ Sansa sighed, took another sip of the wine and offered it to Erena, who just shook her head and turned away. She stood then, walked to her own horse and started rummaging through the saddlebags. Sansa took yet another swig of the wine, before laying back down and staring into the darkening sky.

When Rickon returned looked at Sansa, like he was waiting for her to get up. She just raised her eyebrows and looked down at her foot. Rickon rolled his eyes and looked at Erena. “Can you help me get her up?”

The next few moments were full of awkward fumbling on Rickon and Erena’s part, and restrained agony on Sansa’s. Rickon led them to the base of a great tree, with a trunk wide enough for all of them to rest moderately comfortably. Rickon left them there and went back for the horses as Shaggy went in another direction, probably to hunt. Sansa prayed that Stranger wouldn’t give her too much of an issue. She stood on her right foot, leaning against another tree while Erena readied a space for her. She laid Sandor’s cloak down on the cold but dry ground and Sansa could see no reason to protest. _It’s seen worse._ Erena helped her hobble over and she plopped down, her bag next to her, exhausted and cold onto the ground.

Once Rickon returned with the horses, Stranger on his own after the other two, the three of them settled down. He started the fire easily enough. Sometimes Sansa tended to forget how Rickon had lived in the wild for so much of his life. It was fascinating to watch him work, seeing the pride in his eyes as the wood began to smoke under his careful supervision.

Sansa was glad to see that she wasn’t the only one who thought to bring food. They nibbled on some bread that was still soft and some hard cheese. Rickon bit into one of the apples she had brought, offering one to her, but she could barely stomach the cheese. Before long, with the exhaustion, her sickness, the pain of her ankle and the wine, Sansa felt herself begin to fade. Rickon seemed to notice.

“You two get some rest. I’ll take the first watch.”

Neither Sansa nor Erena protested before hunkering down close to each other. It was cold, but there was no wind in the deep of the trees. Shaggy came back then and settled himself between Rickon and Sansa. With the combined warmth of him behind her, and Erena on her other side, it was actually quite warm. Sansa clutched the dagger to her chest and pulled her cloak tightly around her.

For a moment, she felt so guilty, taking the time to rest instead of rushing off to be with Sandor. _But if I don’t rest, if I make it there at all, I would be in as rough shape as him._

 

“Sansa.” Rickon woke her. The world was dark around them, the fire turned to just smoke in the night. “I need to sleep.” He told her, sounding very small.

She nodded and made herself sit up. She nearly cried out when she put her foot to the ground, completely forgetting about her injury. She shoved herself back and sat leaning up against the tree as her ankle throbbed in an all new agony.

She heard Rickon’s snores quickly enough, measured in time against Erena’s deep soft breaths, Shaggy’s snoring. She put her head back against the bark and surprised herself when her eyes welled up. She looked into the leaves that were black in the night and made believe that they were red.

 _Gods. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness or you mercy. But he does. Please,_ please _, keep him alive. I love him. I love him._

“Sansa?” She froze. A soft voice cut off her thoughts. “I’m awake.” She looked down Erena was in the process of turning over to face her, her eyes were wide and filled with tears. “Is all of that true?”

“What?”

“What you just said. Is that all true?”

_Shit. No. Gods please don’t tell me- Was I speaking out loud?_

Sansa’s eyes were as wide as anything as Erena blinked at her, waiting for a response. A response that Sansa could not produce.

Erena just nodded in such a knowing way that reminded her so much of her dead brother.

 _Gods what have I done?_ “Erena…I-“ She didn’t know where her words were going and she just stopped short, having no idea what to tell the girl.

Erena shrugged, looking like her brother again, making Sansa’s heart clench. She wrapped her cloak tighter around herself and “I kind of figured. Only recently really, though, if I’m being honest. The way you reacted when Robb came back. It…I thought at first you were talking about Gawen. But the more I thought about it, it just didn’t make any sense. And then you and Rickon ran away, and I was even more confused. But…hearing you say it out loud, it makes complete sense.”

Sansa waited for the inevitable words. Erena looked down when she said it. She looked like she would rather burrow under a hole in the cold ground than say the words aloud. But say them she did. “You’re in love with Sandor Clegane.” She didn’t ask. She was just stating the fact out loud.

Sansa’s throat protested when she rasped out a quiet, “Yes.”

“You…um…you were the one in his room. The uh…broken bed.”

Sansa shut her eyes tightly before opening them and making herself look at the girl. _Gods. Does everyone know about that?_ “Yes.” She finally croaked out.

Erena nodded again before looking back into Sansa’s eyes with a strength that Sansa was not expecting. “Did you love Gawen?” Her voice was strong, even, and sure.

“No.” She whispered.

Erena bit her lip and nodded again. “Did you tell him you did?”

“No. I-” She got out as quickly as she could. She almost said, _I wouldn’t lie to him_ , but then realized that their entire relationship, brief though it was, was one big lie. “No. He told me he didn’t want me to say so, not until I did.”

Erena sighed. “Well there’s that at least.”

Sansa lifted her foot and scooted herself down so she lay between Erena and Shaggy again. She turned on her side to face the girl and she grasped Erena’s hands in her own. “I’m sorry Erena. Your brother was one of the best men I’ve ever met. A better man than my brother. He would have been a perfect husband for me. But…but not after what Sandor and I had. If only…if only I had met Gawen before Sandor. Before…Joffrey. Before the godsdamned war. When I first met Joffrey, I dreamed that he would have been someone like Gawen. Gawen…he is what I have always wanted. But…” Sansa shook her head, not realizing how true the words were until they fell from her mouth. “Too much has happened in my life. Too much that I can’t simply forget and just change back to that girl with her head in the clouds.” Erena nodded solemnly, telling her to continue. Sansa didn’t realize how badly she needed to talk about this until she tried to shut herself up, but she went on. “The world is not a song. Sandor was the first one who was honest to me about that. Sandor, he…he’s the only one who was there. The only one who understands everything I had gone through.” She swallowed past the roughness of her throat. She hadn’t spoken so much since she had gotten sick, but she couldn’t stop. She needed Erena to understand. “And the same goes for him. I know more about that man than anyone else in this world. For some reason, he trusted me. I just… I never expected to love him. But now that I do…”

Sansa felt herself shrug. She didn’t know how to read the look on Erena’s face and the girl gave her nothing in the form of words. Sansa swallowed again as another thought came to her.

“For what it’s worth…I think Gawen knew. Toward the end. The way he looked at me – us – sometimes. It was like he was figuring it out.”

Sansa stopped, remembering Gawen’s face in the way she was. His laugh, his smile, the fierce look in his blue eyes before he kissed her at Deepwood. The knowing, pitiful stare he gave her when he left Winterfell. And then she imagined that same man sacrificing his own life to save Sandor’s. “Erena.” She choked out. The girl that was almost her sister looked at her with wide eyes. “I’m sorry.” And Sansa started to sob. “I’m so sorry.”

She didn’t know that Erena would react the way she did. She would have thought the girl would have pushed her away. She expected to be screamed at. She never expected for Erena to wrap her arms around her.

Sansa remembered last night when she and Rickon cried together. She didn’t know how she had any tears left, but there she was crying like a baby along with her almost-sister. She felt ridiculous. She felt like a child. But she didn’t care. They stayed like that for a while, until her breathing finally slowed and she could speak again. “He didn’t deserve to die.” Sansa finally said.

“I know.” Erena sniffed. She swallowed and looked at Sansa, her eyes set with determination when she said, “But neither does Sandor.”

Sansa felt herself nod slowly at the girl who just hours ago, she thought she would never be able to talk to about anything again. _Of all the things I’ve done, how have I gotten so lucky to be given such good friends?_

 

Shaggy’s low growl vibrated through his body and down to the earth around him. Sansa’s felt herself wake up, but didn’t open her eyes, afraid to see what he was focused on. She moved her hand slowly toward where she had left the dagger, her heart beating hard in her chest. She’d fallen asleep. _I fell asleep when it was my turn to stay awake. And now we are going to die._

“It’s alright, boy.” She heard a man’s voice say softly as she gripped onto the weirwood hilt. “Come now, you know we mean them no harm.”

She felt Erena’s fingers on her wrist. Gods. _If they all have swords there is no way I’d be able to get close enough to do any damage with the dagger. Shaggy and Rickon better be prepared._

She heard someone take a step toward them, a twig break under their foot. Shaggy’s internal growl rippled through his chest as he snarled through his teeth.

“Take another step and you’ll lose an arm.” Rickon said, his voice quiet and calm. Sansa could tell that he was standing. “He did it just a week ago. I think he’d like to do it again.”

“My prince. Call him off. Please.” The voice was familiar to Sansa now. And he obviously knew Rickon.

“No.” Rickon said. “Not until you turn around and tell my brother to shove off.”

Sansa opened her eyes and sat up in one quick movement, the dagger in her hand, ignoring the shooting pain in her ankle. “Ser Darol.”

“Princess.” Darol stood there, his hands out in front of him. _At least he had the mind not to draw his sword._ Sansa looked around. A set of Robb’s young men stood near behind Darol, their eyes wide and their hands at their swords in the scabbards. Erena had just stood up next to her. Sansa could see a kitchen knife in her hand behind her back. Rickon stood with his sword drawn, next to Shaggy whose hackles were still raised. “The dagger is not needed, I assure you.”

“Then tell your friends to let go of their swords.”

“As long as you wouldn’t mind telling your brother to do the same.”

Sansa didn’t move. She stared at him, trying to look as unflinching as possible, even though every bone in her body ached. After just a few moments of silence, Darol turned to the other man and nodded. He let go of his sword and after a second, Rickon sheathed his and patted Shaggy on the shoulder. The wolf didn’t sit, but he seemed to relax ever so slightly. Once the immediate tension had passed, Darol looked back at Sansa, kind determination on his face.

“You’re ill.” He said, noting her voice.

Her voice was so changed, she wondered if it would ever go back to normal. “Obviously.”

“Then let me bring you home to safety.”

“Oh good. So that _is_ what you’re here for.” Sansa said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Funny. It turns out Robb did have enough men to chase after us, but not to escort us to Deepwood like we wanted in the first place."

Rickon laughed out loud and Sansa caught the look of annoyance on Darol’s face. The coughing fit that took over her took the fun out of it though.

“This will all be much easier if you just agree to come back like the king wants.” Darol said sternly.

“I should say it would.” Sansa said calmly, once she could breathe again. “Seeing as you have no wolf and all.”

Sansa felt her lips turn up at the corner when one of the men behind him took a visible step back. She knew Rickon would never set Shaggy on them, but they didn’t. This all could have turned out very badly had Shaggy not been there. But Sansa knew they had the upper hand now, and she had to finish this quickly. She tried to sound as strong and commanding as possible, even with her voice and her place on the ground.

“Here is how this is going to go, Ser. You’ll escort us safely to Deepwood Motte. I’ll bear the brunt of the king’s wrath, of course. You’ll do this. Or you’ll return to Winterfell alone and tell my brother how two girls and a ten year old boy escaped you.”

Darol ground his teeth together at her ultimatum. _Gods. How did I even let him touch me? Why should he have survived when Gawen was dead and Sandor so close to it._

“Fine. But we’ll be moving fast.” He said through gritted teeth. “Let’s go.”

 

Her throat didn’t hurt anymore. She was alone in the snow. It was almost as high as her knees, but she struggled through. She had to get there. She just didn’t know where she was. She struggled through, focused on a figure in the distance. _It’s Sandor. I know it is._

When she got there, she realized that she was horrible mistaken. Ramsay Bolton stood in the snow, waiting for her.

She shook her head furiously when he saw her. “You’re dead. Sandor killed you.”

Ramsay just smiled sickly with his wet wormy lips. Then he looked down into the snow at his feet. Sansa followed his gaze and the snow was gone. Then she could finally see where they were. The lichyard at Winterfell. Sansa felt a punch in her get when she realized he was standing on Lady’s grave.

“Look at that.” Ramsay tsked. “Both of the Princess’s dogs, buried so close next to each other.”

He laughed and looked down at Sansa’s feet. She followed his eyes again and saw that she stood on a mound of freshly dug dirt.

“ _No.”_

She took a step back and tripped over something, nearly falling, but she caught herself. She looked down to see what she had tripped on and she fell to her knees when she saw what it was. The Hound’s – Sandor’s helm.

“No!”

“Princess!” A voice called.

“No! He’s not dead! He’s not dead!” She fought against strong hands on her shoulders, a man crouching down in front of her.

“Princess, relax, you’re awake! You’re awake!”

“Get off of me!” She gave the man one last shove and heard an ‘oof’ as he lost his balance and fell over onto the ground behind him.

Sansa’s heart was beating out of her chest, but it didn’t stop the feeling of hysteria. She wrapped her cloak more tightly around herself and shut her eyes as a coughing fit took over. _It was a nightmare. Just a nightmare. Ramsay is dead. Sandor is alive. He’s alive._

“You really must love him, hmm?”

Sansa opened her eyes and cleared her throat when the coughing stopped. She looked at Darol, sitting in front of her. Sansa hadn’t minded the other men as much as she thought she might have. They moved more quickly, and even though Stranger’s movements kept in time with the pounding in her head, she was glad of it. It had helped having them there when she had to get on Stranger. Although she protested at first, it was much easier on her when Darol carried her to Stranger and lifted her up on top of him.

“It’s alright Princess.” He said kindly. “It’s not obvious. I mean… now it is.” Sansa rolled her eyes as he went on. “But, at least, it makes sense, why he got so angry that night.”

“What do you mean?” Sansa scraped out.

Darol squinted his eyes in the darkness. “Your nameday. When uh… when he beat me to a pulp.” Sansa looked down. She had tried to forget about that and she didn’t understand why he was bringing it up now. “Sorry. You probably don’t want to think about that.”

She swallowed and looked down at her hands. “You are correct.”

Darol cleared his throat. “Well, I knew then that no other man should dare come anywhere near you again. He made it pretty clear that you were his then.”

Why is he saying any of this? Sansa wondered.

“We should get there by the end of day tomorrow, if we keep our pace.”

Sansa just nodded, having no more use of her voice, and being so confused by his choice of conversation. When he looked at her again, Sansa could see the sincerity in his eyes when he spoke again. “I hope…I hope he’s alright Princess. I really do.”

After a moment she found her voice again. “Thank you.”

Darol nodded and moved to settle against a tree once more. She couldn’t fall back to sleep after that.

In the morning, Sansa couldn’t find it in herself to eat anything, no matter how Erena tried. When Darol lifted her into the saddle, she thought she was going to snap from all of her aches and pains. Her ankle had swollen so much that she never even put her boot back on. Her back ached, her hips, her legs from being in the saddle. Her cough still persisted until she lost her voice completely. She shivered constantly which only made her aches worse. She had fallen asleep in the saddle and she didn’t even realize until Rickon called to her. Erena commented on the closeness of the castle at one point as the trees got thicker. The woods were quiet, but it was nothing compared to the roaring inside of Sansa’s aching head.

_Sandor. I have to get to him. He needs me. I have to make sure he’s still alright._

But she wouldn’t find out on her own. Once the walls of the keep came into view, she felt herself falling off of Stranger. She heard a scream. But that was all before the blackness took over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3 or 4 chapters left I think.  
> *sigh*


	91. Chapter 91

Sansa

“This needs to stop happening Sansa.”

Her eyelids felt as heavy as sandbags when she tried to open them. She was laying down. She could feel Rickon’s weight on the bed next to her.

_Sandor. Where is he?_ When Sansa opened her mouth to speak, nothing came out. She finally opened her eyes and saw her little brother hovering over her.

Rickon shook his head. “I told the maester you lost your voice. He says you shouldn’t try to talk. He gave you milk of the poppy. For your ankle. And said just to let you sleep and heal or something.” Sansa rubbed her eyes as he continued, telling her nothing that she cared about hearing. “I guess you did need it then. You’ve been out for two whole days.”

Sansa’s eyes widened. _Two days? Two whole days? Where is Sandor!_ Sansa tried to sit up, but Rickon caught her by the shoulder and pushed her back. _He’s dead. He’s dead I know he is!_

Sansa’s vision went black and fuzzy for a second, but it didn’t stop her from pushing him back.

“Don’t move! Your shoulder popped out or something when you fell.”

She widened her eyes. _Again?_ Only then did she feel the dull ache in her left shoulder, her arm bent and wrapped tightly to her chest. _Doesn’t matter._ She pushed Rickon back and made to get out of the bed.

“Gods! What’s wrong with you!” Rickon yelled when he stopped her again. “You can’t walk on your own! You need to rest!”

Sansa felt like she was going to lose her mind. She must have looked mad, mouthing the words she couldn’t say out loud. _Sandor! Where is he!_ She wanted to scream. Rickon looked confused until she grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him. Finally, a look of realization crossed his features. “Oh! You’re probably wondering about Sandor.”

She nodded furiously and gipped into his shoulder.

And Rickon smiled.

 

Sandor

_Earlier that Afternoon_

“Sandor?”

He could feel her. Smell her even. But his eyes were closed and he couldn’t find it in him to open them. It was as if a veil was pulled over his face, a fog, immoveable and unbreakable, no matter how he tried. “Wake up, Sandor.” He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Wake up.” Her voice became more insistent, but still he couldn’t open his eyes. And then the hand was a fist as it beat on his chest. “Wake up!” Another, harder hit. “Wake up wake up wake up!”

And he did. His eyes opened, and her Tully blue eyes stared back at him. But they were not in her face. “Rickon?”

“Ha!” The boy leaning over him shouted, a smile breaking out across his face. He stepped back and rubbed at his eyes. “It worked! I didn’t think it would actually work!” The boy still shouted between his laughter.

Sandor groaned in pain. It felt like his body had been broken, piece by piece, only to be put back together by some incompetent fraud. The worst of it was coming from his face, his shoulder and his leg. _Fucking hells, my leg._ Sandor blinked a few times and tried to push past the pain. Once Rickon calmed down, he helped Sandor to drink some water, but his voice still sounded weak when he finally spoke. “How long have I been out?”

Rickon shrugged. “Over a week now.”

“A week!” He tried to sit up, but he was so weak Rickon pushed him back down easily.

“Don’t try to move! They just stitched it up - you’ll rip right through it!” Rickon pointed down to under the sheet that covered him. “Your leg, Sandor!”

Sandor lifted his arm that felt like it was weighed down with sandbags and pulled the sheet off of himself. He was wearing a long tunic that covered what it needed to, but when he pulled it back a little bit he saw it. His left thigh throbbing underneath layers and layers of clean wrappings.

“Fuck.” He groaned as his head fell back on the pillow. He didn’t know how deep it was, but he when he tried to move it, just the slightest bit, a burning, blinding pain ran through him. He gritted his teeth to stop from shouting out. There was no way he was going to be able to get up on his own and walk, at least for a long time.

Rickon looked down on him in pity. “What do you remember?”

Sandor narrowed his eyes, trying to see past the pounding ache in his head. “Ramsay?”

He saw Rickon nod. “Dead. You killed him?”

Sandor nodded, thinking of cutting into the bastard. And then he remembered. “Would have been the other way around if you and your beast hadn’t shown up.”

Rickon waved a hand at him. “Nah. You had it under control.” The boy smiled knowingly and Sandor knew that would be enough in terms of a thank you.

They talked a little more, about Robb, Ser Gawen. Sandor remembered killing Roose Bolton. Rickon reminded him that was how he had saved Robb. He also remembered Gawen, how he had pushed him out of the way, and Ramsay had killed Gawen for it. When Rickon talked to him about what he saw, Sandor was thinking of the conversation they had as he lay dying. _Too good a man_ , Sandor realized shaking his head, _so much better than me. And here I am, alive, in his home while he rots here._

Rickon was quiet for too long. Sandor looked down at him. “Gods.” Rickon whispered looking at the mess that was his leg. “How many times did you injure this thing?”

Sandor thought of protecting Joffrey during Robb’s attack, the arrow he got from leaving the Night’s Watch men to rescue Sansa, the fire that ate through his flesh when she had rescued him. And now Ramsay slicing through him as if he were butter. “Too many times.”

Rickon sighed before he kept on babbling. “They had to change it a few times a day. I watched them the first few times, packing it, wrapping it.” Rickon shook his head, his lips becoming pale. “There was so much blood Sandor. No one thought you were going to make it. Even I didn’t.” Sandor looked up at the ceiling. If the boy was going to cry, he didn’t need to see it. He heard Rickon swallow before he went on. “You were in this room with a whole bunch of other injured men in the beginning. I made them move you up here. I thought they would have brought you back, but I’m glad to see they didn’t.”

They talked for a few minutes, but all Sandor wanted to know was about Sansa. He just didn’t know how he should ask. Sandor sighed heavily, ignoring the pain under the bandages on his shoulder when his chest moved. “Why are you still here?” He asked the boy. “Why didn’t you go home?”

Rickon’s eyes shifted, and he looked guilty all of a sudden. “I did go home.”

Sandor felt his brow furrow. “And you came back? Then what are you doing here now?”

He shrugged. “I couldn’t let her come on her own. She’d die. I know that now, beat up as she was. I never did realize just how clumsy she was until now, between her ankle, her shoulder…” Rickon trailed off and seemed oblivious to Sandor’s confusion.

“She?” Sandor’s eyes widened. “Your sister? She’s _here_?”

“Well…yes.” Rickon blinked. “Didn’t I just say that?”

Sansa

 “Where do you think you’re going!”

Sansa ignored her brother and pushed the sheets away from herself. She was in nothing but a shift as she tried to squirm out of the bed. Rickon put a hand on her good shoulder, trying gently to stop her. “You can’t walk Sansa!” _Oh no? Watch me._ She got to the edge of the bed and lifted herself up onto her right foot. Her vision went blurry again, and her head felt light, but just for a second. “Sansa, don’t be stupid.”

She took a step and put the slightest bit of weight on her bad ankle. A yelp tried to escape her lips when she fell into a pile of limbs on the floor. She gritted her teeth and tried to bite past the pain in her ankle, but it was no use.

She looked up when Rickon peaked over the edge of the bed to look down at her. “Told you.” She rolled her eyes. “Gods you’re just like him!” He said as he came down and stood in front of her. “When I told him you were here this afternoon, he nearly knocked me down trying to get out of the bed. But his leg won’t let him stand let alone walk. Just like you can’t with your ankle.”

Sansa glared at him and stretched her hand up.

“What?” She shook her hand at him once more, until he rolled his eyes and bent down to help her. Once she was standing again, leaning all of her weight between her brother and her right foot, Rickon looked up at her. “You’re not going to get back in bed are you?”

Sansa shook her head, pointing at the door.

“Fine. But think about this.” Rickon’s tone became serious all of a sudden. “You’re in the home of a family who just lost their only son. A son who you were going to marry. And what do you think will happen if they find you and another man in a room together. The maester checks on him every so often and you aren’t in any kind of shape to run and hide when that happens.”

Sansa sighed. “See,” Rickon said. “You know I’m right.”

But Sandor was alive. He was here and waiting for her! He tried to get to her but he was too hurt to even get out of bed. She needed to be with him. But Rickon was right too. What a horrible insult it would to be to the Glovers, to Gawen’s memory, if they were found together. Sansa hadn’t thought of how they would react if she hadn’t been unconscious when she arrived. She had thought that she would rush in and demand to see Sandor right away. That would be even more insensitive, she knew that now. She didn’t want to think that it was a good thing that she hadn’t been able to walk into Deepwood on her own, but… _Erena knows and still doesn’t hate me. That has to count for something_. Sansa looked down at Rickon and nodded before pointing at the door again.

The way was difficult and clumsy in the dark, but at least there were no stairs involved and he wasn’t far away at all. To think that she had been lying there for two days, just down the hall from him, made her want to scream.

They got to the door and Sansa went to open it. “He’s probably asleep.” Rickon told her. So she knocked instead.

“Who’s there?” Sandor asked immediately, definitely not asleep. If she could make a sound, it would have been a whimper to come out of her mouth. It took everything in her not to let go of Rickon to stumble in there on her own.

Rickon pushed the door open and they shuffled into the room. Sansa could see the shape of a bed in the darkness, but nothing more.

“It’s me.” Rickon whispered. Sansa poked him in the ribs. “Ow _._ _And_ Sansa. She just woke up.”

She heard his sharp intake of breath and then a brief moment of silence. “Put a fire in the hearth Rickon. Quickly.” Sandor’s voice sounded weak, more rasping than usual. Rickon left her standing there, in the middle of the room. She heard him fumbling around in the dark, putting wood into the hearth as Sansa’s heart threatened to beat out of her chest. She could hear Sandor’s labored breathing in the distance, but it was too dark and she was too far from the bed to make it there without Rickon’s help.

After what seemed like ages, Rickon managed to light a fire. She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the change in light. And then she saw him.

He lay there in the bed, propped up a little on his elbow. He was pale. Almost as white as a ghost, if not for the purple and yellowing bruising under his eyes. His shoulder was wrapped up tight with bandages.

He lifted his hand toward her and gestured for her to come closer. Rickon came back to her and helped her hobble toward the bed. When she got there, she reached out her hand to touch his. It felt like a punch to the gut and like the weight of the world had been lifted off of her shoulders all at once. She covered her mouth with her left hand, ignoring the protesting in her shoulder, and she started to cry.

Rickon let go of her. “Uhmm… alright. I guess I’ll leave you two.” Sansa didn’t even hear him walk out or close the door. She wanted to jump onto the bed, but she was too afraid to move. Too afraid to touch him or to make him hurt even more. After just another moment of him watching her with wide eyes as she cried shamelessly in front of him, he tugged on her hand. “Come here.”

He turned onto his right side, with difficulty it seemed, and made room for her. Maneuvering herself into the bed next to him was awkward and clumsy with their combined injuries, but once they had settled in each other’s arms, nothing had ever felt so right. She burrowed herself into his chest, ignoring the pain in her shoulder from laying on her left side, and wrapped her good arm around his middle. He pressed his mouth to her forehead before pulling her closer and burying his face in her hair. The way he inhaled deeply sent warm chills down her spine, just like it had in her dream. It was as if their argument before the battle had never happened. His tunic was unbuttoned in the front and she inhaled the scent of him. _This is real,_ she had to tell herself. _He’s really here. He’s alive. And we are together._ She pressed her lips to his skin and she thought that she could feel his muscles trembling underneath her kiss. “I’m sorry.” He croaked out, sounding nothing like himself. “I’m so sorry.” He said again. And then she realized. _He’s crying._ She’d never seen Sandor cry. She didn’t know it was even possible. But here he was, the fierce Hound, his tears soaking into her hair at the crown of her head. She didn’t look up at him to see. She just needed him to hold her.

They lay like that for a while, until she felt like she couldn’t cry anymore and he was completely silent, but for his deep breathing. She felt it was safe to look at him. She kissed his chest again and moved up his neck, his jaw, until she reached his mouth. She froze though, looking at his nose. It had always been rather large and hooked, but now it was a little crooked at the bridge. Looking at the bruising under his eyes made her own water, just imagining the soreness, the pain that she could cause if she kissed him as hard as she wanted to.

His eyes searched hers for a moment, knowing what she was thinking, and then he nodded. She turned her head and pressed her lips lightly as possible to his. She brought her hand up to his face, feeling the familiar roughness of his scars and kissed him again. It was Sandor who pressed her further, kissing her back so suddenly and so hard, it was as if he forgot about his injury. He remembered soon enough though, when he grunted from the pain and pulled back, gritting his teeth.

Sansa put her head on the pillow to take a good look at him as he settled down. They would have time to kiss when they were both healed. Right now, it had to be enough that she could just see him, feel him, be with him. She ran her thumb gently over his face, pushing his hair back so she could see all of him and he rested his hand on her hip under the covers.

His voice started to sound more like his own as he spoke. “I never should have lied to you that night. I never should have tried to leave you. Gods what was I thinking?” He was torturing himself - that much was obvious. But she didn’t even care about what had happened anymore. She just wished she could tell him as much. She traced her fingers down to his lips and pressed them there, shaking her head.

Then Sandor’s eyes widened, as if he finally just realized she was actually there. “What the fuck, Sansa? What are you doing here?” She felt his big hand grip into the flesh on her hip as he continued to speak. “Rickon said you fell. Twice. Your shoulder again? Your ankle now?” He tried to fuss over her but she grabbed his hand and held it in hers. She shook her head. _I’m fine._

But he wasn’t done. “What were you thinking, leaving home like that! You could have gotten lost, or stolen, or hurt so much worse than you were. And he said you were unconscious. Buggering hells I’ve been waiting here, lying awake since this afternoon, losing my mind from not being able to run to you.”

Sansa didn’t know why, maybe it was how much he was saying and how fast he was speaking, maybe just the overwhelming happiness she felt from being with him again, but she giggled. She felt giddy, maybe even delirious and she couldn’t help it. No sound came from her throat, but he could tell she was laughing all the same.

“Why are you laughing? What’s wrong with you?” Sansa narrowed her eyes at him and pointed at her throat. “Shit. That’s right. Rickon told me you lost your voice.”

She nodded. He sighed as he finally took a breath and relaxed. He groaned in frustration, bringing his hand up to her back, bringing her closer, his face just an inch from hers. “I wish I could hear you.” He murmured, his breath warming her lips.

She smiled at him and bit her lip. _I love you_ , she mouthed.

She could have stared at the way his mouth turned up at the corner for days. And then he answered her. “Love you, little bird.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've only got two more for you. One last chapter (gonna be a long one) and an epilogue.   
> Can't believe how close we're getting!


	92. Chapter 92

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied! Still two more after this!

Sansa

She didn’t remember falling asleep, but she was thankful when Rickon came back for her a few hours later. He shook her awake and she couldn’t avoid waking Sandor up as she disentangled her limbs from his. He tried to hold on to her, and she was more than reluctant to let go again so soon.

“Come on, Sansa.” Rickon insisted. “We need to go _now_.”

He was right. The sky was already starting to grey outside the window. Sandor’s hand found her face and brought it to his own. He kissed her carefully and they both ignored Rickon’s impatient groan.

“You’ll come back?” Sandor murmured sleepily against her lips. She nodded, already feeling that she hadn’t gotten her voice back yet.

She waited until the sun peaked through the curtains of her own room before she dressed herself, with much difficulty. In the end, she had taken off the wrap for her shoulder. It was sore, but it was in place, and that was all that mattered.

Rickon came back to her then with a gift of sorts. “It’s a crutch!” He said excitedly. Rickon demonstrated to her how Maester Cedric explained to use it. She almost giggled, watching him hobbling around, until she realized how ridiculous she was going look doing the same thing. It was awkward at first, especially with her shoulder, but she got the hang of it quickly enough. Finally, it was time to go down and do what she wish she didn’t have to. She had to see the Glovers.

“Should I mention about Sandor?” Rickon had asked her. “About Gawen saving him, I mean.”

Sansa bit her lip. She didn’t want to lie to Gawen’s parents, but she didn’t think it would be appropriate or fair to tell them such a thing. Rickon thought they knew that Ramsay had killed him. Any more seemed unnecessary and insensitive. She knew they wouldn’t be very happy with the man they were keeping alive here instead of their son. She shook her head and Rickon silently agreed with her.

They sat with the Glovers for a while that morning. Lord Robbett looked hollow somehow. Lady Sybelle was still absolutely beside herself. Sansa was almost glad she couldn’t speak; she didn’t know what in the world she would have said. Rickon acted as her translator. Having been able to speak to her before she lost her voice, he somehow knew exactly what to say.

She learned that they had buried Gawen the morning after they had arrived. They apologized to Sansa, for not waiting for her. She had tried to hide her tears then. Tears of grief and unmitigated guilt, that would have been worse had they actually waited for her. She didn’t know if she would have been able to bear it, seeing him be buried. She would have to remember Gawen the last way she saw him. Leaving Winterfell, a knowing look of pity in his eyes. He finally understood everything then, it was obvious, and it only made Sansa feel worse. She knew she would have to go see his grave before leaving again for home.

For the rest of the morning, Sansa couldn’t keep her eyes off of Erena. She sat with her back straight, her chin held high, speaking clearly and attending to her mother when she needed another handkerchief. It was like being back in her home gave her an all new strength somehow. She no longer seemed to be the naïve young girl, running on the beach toward the water, floating around the great hall in a pretty pink dress. Sansa knew it was her brother’s absence to have such an effect on her, but she hoped that it wouldn’t be a permanent change for the girl. She knew Gawen wouldn’t have wanted that for his sister.

Perhaps it was the anguish that blinded them, but the Glovers did not ask Sansa why she had decided to come so abruptly. She figured Erena must have told them something convincing enough. If they had known the truth, she was sure she and Sandor would not be welcome for another moment.

After a little while, Sansa felt it was finally time to leave them for the day. She could tell they just wanted to be alone. Rickon made an excuse and ran off in another direction, but Sansa couldn’t make herself worry about him. She needed to see Sandor again.

When she got to his room and knocked, it was a surprise when someone came to the door. “Ah, Princess!” It was the Maester - Cedric was his name. “The crutch is working well I see.”

Sansa glanced down to her ankle, ignored the aching in her shoulder and underarm, and nodded with a smile. “Fantastic!” His eyes were bright and kind, considering all of the death and sickness he just had to take care of with the battle. “Voice still hiding from you?”

Sansa nodded again, starting to become impatient. _Is everything alright?_

He must have finally seen the exasperation on her face. “Come to see your friend, have you?”

Sansa nodded so earnestly that she thought her head would fall right off her neck.

“Perhaps just now is not the best time, I’m afraid.”

Sansa’s brow furrowed, her eyes flashing from Maester Cedric’s to the crack in the door behind him. _What’s wrong? Why won’t he let me in?!_

She was ready to knock the man down with her crutch when she finally heard him.

“Let her in!” Sandor rasped from inside the room. “She’s seen worse.”

Sansa saw the maester’s eye twitch ever so slightly. “Changing his bandages again, you see.” He cleared his throat before backing up into the door, finally admitting her entry. When she passed, Maester Cedric leaned in and whispered to her. “He was a much better patient when he was unconscious, I must say.”

That much seemed to be obvious. She wanted to turn and run, seeing the mess of still bloodied bandages in a heap on a side table, but the better part of her wanted to run to Sandor and fuss over him, making sure he wasn’t in pain. The latter won over, but the look he gave her stalled her before she could reach him.

 _Right_. It would be strange enough that a princess would want to see her sworn shield in such a state. Any form of touching the man would just be unseemly. Still, Sansa clenched her hands into fists trying to restrain herself.

Sandor sighed heavily, obviously noticing her distress. “I’m fine, little bird.”

Sansa knew he was _fine_ , for all intents and purposes. But he was still in pain. That much was clear on his face. He didn’t seem to be as pale as he was last night though. The bruising hadn’t gotten any better, but at least it wasn’t worse.

Maester Cedric had closed the door behind them and came to the side of the bed again. He went to lift the sheet off of Sandor, but paused, looking up at Sansa. She took the hint and turned around.

Maester Cedric talked through the whole process, saying how much Sandor had improved. She listened intently to his words and the sounds he tried to hide with them. Opening and closing a jar, rustling fabric, Sandor’s cursing under his breath. The maester told her how it seemed like Sandor wasn’t going to make it – “Until…” He paused in his work, she heard too, just for a moment, before continuing. “Until the night you showed up to Deepwood, now that I think on it. That’s when some color started to return to him. He started to breathe more regularly, his fever finally broke. That’s when his blood finally started to truly thicken at the wound.”

 _Gods_ , if he was looking _good_ last night, Sansa knew she would have never been able to handle seeing him when he was truly in the rough.

“Alright dear, he’s all set.”

Sansa turned around and hobbled over to the side of the bed. Sandor was sitting up now, against a pile of pillows and the headboard.

“Everything is looking better than it has any right to.” Maester Cedric told them both as he cleaned up his work. Sansa couldn’t help the smile on her face as he continued. “I think we could get you standing in a couple days. Think you’d be up for that, Ser?” Sansa rolled her eyes and Sandor groaned.

“Not a –“

“He’s not a knight.”

Both men turned their heads to her, their eyes open wide.

“What?” _What are they-_ “Oh!” Her hand flew to cover her mouth. “I can talk!” Her voice was weak and somewhat rasping, but it was her voice. _Finally!_

Maester Cedric laughed and Sansa saw Sandor’s mouth turn up at the corner. The maester pulled up a chair to Sandor’s side for her. “Seems like you two have some catching up to do.” He helped Sansa into the chair before leaving them in silence.

Sansa grabbed Sandor’s hand as soon as the door closed. All of a sudden, she had her voice back. She could say whatever she wanted to. But all she could come up with was a weak – “Hi.”

Even with his injuries, the way he looked at her still turned her into melting butter. She didn’t know how she managed it, but somehow she had climbed up onto the bed next to him. She was kneeling, looking down on him. He wrapped his arm around her waist and was about to pull her close, until Rickon came sauntering in, chomping into an apple.

“Ugh.” He said, chewing with his mouth full of the fruit. “I need to remember to knock.”

Sandor groaned, pulling away from Sansa and landing with a huff back into his pillow. Sansa sat back gently on her heel, bringing her left foot to hang over the bed. That’s when she noticed Rickon had something else in his hand. She felt her eyes narrow, seeing the scroll. “What is that?”

“Letter back from Robb.” He took another bite of his apple, before pointing it at her. “Hey! You’re talking!” Sansa couldn’t be excited with him. _Robb._ Sansa felt her stomach drop. Rickon seemed to notice. “Huh. You didn’t even think of Robb, did you?”

Sansa shrugged. “I’ve had a lot on my mind.” She knew there was really no excuse. She should have sent correspondence to her brother as soon as she woke up, but she was glad Rickon seemed to think of it when she was unconscious. “What did you tell him?”

Rickon sighed and flopped down in the armchair she had just left. “I apologized for leaving again without leaving a note. I told him what happened to you on the road and everything. And not to blame his men for not bringing us back. Oh, and I told him that you and Sandor would be needing the wheelhouse to make the return journey.” Sansa cringed. _He wouldn’t be happy with that._ Rickon leaned forward to hand her the letter. “I don’t know. Seems fine, but-“ He finished his sentence with a shrug and another chomp into his apple.

Sansa took the scroll and held it in her hand. She didn’t know why she was so nervous. _What do you think it’s going to say? You aren’t welcome home you treasonous whore?_

She felt Sandor grab the hand that lay in her lap and looked up at him. He nodded to her, a gesture of encouragement. She took a breath and unrolled the small scroll.

 

_Rickon,_

_Thank you for letting me know of your whereabouts. We will discuss it when you come home. Sending the wheelhouse the day after tomorrow._

 

And that was all.

“Oh.” She sighed.

“He didn’t even sign it.” Rickon said. “Could he really be that busy that he couldn’t scrawl four more letters? I guess he’s just mad at me.”

Sansa shook her head. “No. He hates me. I’ve disobeyed him at every turn. He won’t forgive me for this, especially for putting you in danger again.”

“He doesn’t hate you Sansa.” Sandor hummed, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb.

“Yeah.” Rickon said. “I mean, he’s mad.” Rickon laughed. “Oh, is he mad.”

Sansa squeezed Sandor’s hand in her lap and she felt him move closer to her. “Get to the point, boy.” He rumbled.

Rickon rolled his eyes, controlling himself again. “But he’ll forgive you. He just has to get over himself and he’ll realize what is really important.”

Sansa looked at her little brother, so unconcerned with everything that would be keeping her awake at night. She looked at Sandor, who nodded, agreeing with the boy it seemed. She knew it was going to be difficult and hard on everyone involved. But at least she wasn’t alone.

 

She and Sandor spent nearly every moment together over the next few days and nights. Her voice was finally near back to normal. His bruising was starting to yellow. Rickon spent nearly every minute with her and Sandor. The three of them talked about everything over and over again; the battle, Ramsay, Gawen, and the prospects of what was to come. She took most of her meals in his room. She only ate evening meals with the Glovers. They didn’t seem to be offended by her preference to be with Sandor. She knew they were starting to wonder, but luckily, Erena seemed to keep their minds off of it.

Sansa didn’t even leave his room when Maester Cedric came two or three times a day. She hoped that her presence helped reign in his rude behavior and crass comments when it came to his frustrations with the maester, but that didn’t seem to be the case. On the third day Cedric suggested trying to stand. It was slow going, and not without foul language that would have made her Lady Mother blush, but eventually Sandor could stand on his own. He seemed to be exhausted after just the short moment, even though he wouldn’t admit it. Sansa thought he might be extremely dizzy from the excursion, and in heaps of pain besides. So just as quickly, he was back in bed, trying to hide the sheen of sweat that appeared on his forehead. Maester Cedric had two crutches made for him. They were propped up in the corner of the room, waiting to be used whenever he could handle being upright for more than a moment.

Erena had found Sansa some needlework to pass the time. She found it relaxing now, in the rare quiet moments spent with Sandor. During one afternoon, they were alone after he had woken up from a short nap. She looked up from her needlework to see him watching her, a peaceful look on his face.

“What is it?” She asked, a smile on her mouth.

Sandor opened his mouth, but closed it again. She let him take his time to find the right words. “We’ve never really…” His face screwed up a little as he searched for the words. “Spent time together, like this.

We are usually in a rush.” He tilted his head to the side, a smirk appearing on his face. “And we don’t usually do much talking.”

Sansa felt her face turn red and a small giggle sounded in her throat.

Sandor only smiled, before turning more serious again. “You being here, its making having to stay in this bed not only bearable, but…pleasant.”

Sansa felt a warm feeling in her middle that slowly radiated throughout her chest. She realized how true his words were. They never really had spent time together such as this. They moved from awkward to all over each other with nothing like this in between. She couldn’t agree with him even more, thinking on how much she was enjoying this time with him, bittersweet though it was, given the circumstances.

The moment was broken though, from a knock on the door. Rickon had learned his lesson it seemed.

“Come in!” Sansa called. When Rickon didn’t come bounding in with another story of his romps with Shaggy outside, Sansa turned in her chair. The door was opening slowly, and she was surprised by the girl that finally showed her face from behind it. “Oh. Hello Erena.”

“Sansa. Ser.” She nodded to both of them. Sansa bit her tongue and she was glad Sandor ignored it as well. Sansa never realized that she never really had to address Sandor before.

After a moment’s silence, Sansa spoke up. “What is it Erena? Can I do something for you?”

The girl seemed to take a deep breath before turning her attention to Sandor. “I know my mother doesn’t want to know how it happened. And my father won’t tell me. But I was wondering if you had any idea how Gawen was killed.”

“What?” Sansa asked, not expecting that at all.

“I need to know. Please.” Erena said clearly, without any trace of a tremor in her voice. Sansa turned back to Sandor who was grinding his teeth.

“Erena.” Sansa said softly. “Maybe this isn’t the best idea.”

“I’m sorry Sansa, but I am quite sick of everyone telling me what I should and shouldn’t hear, say or do. I need to know.” She repeated.

Sansa just nodded. She got up from her chair and gestured for Erena to sit. She motioned for Sandor to move over for her on the bed, but he just gave her a look.

“It’s alright.” She told him. “She knows.” She couldn’t believe she forgot to tell him that. How that fact had escaped their discussions, she would never be sure. Either way, he did make room for her. She sat on the edge of the bed and took Sandor’s hand in hers while Erena settled in the chair Sansa had just vacated.

“It was the bastard. Ramsay.” Sandor got right to it. He told Erena every detail, skipping over the more gory parts that would not help her in her search for closure. While he spoke of what Gawen did to save him, Sansa reached over and grabbed Erena’s hand in her own.

Sansa noticed how Erena wet her lips before speaking. “Did he…did he say anything?”

Sansa looked down, waiting for the inevitable disappointment.

“He did.”

Sansa’s head snapped up. “He did?”

Sandor nodded solemnly.

“What did he say?” Both girls asked at the same time.

“He didn’t want your father to marry you off to Ramsay. Told me not to let it happen.” For the first time, Sansa saw a reaction out of the girl.

“But you killed Ramsay. He knew it before he died right?” She peeped.

“With Rickon and Shaggy’s help. And yes. I told him.” Sandor added.

Erena was quiet for a moment, the only sound in the room was her breathing.

“Did he say anything else?” Sansa asked.

Sandor’s eyes became dark when he looked at her. “He knew about us.”

Sansa felt her stomach plummet to her feet. Her suspicions had been correct. Gawen had known, and she didn’t know what to do with the information. “Told me to take care of you. Watch out for you.” He looked at Erena. “The both of you.”

Sansa looked down at her feet. She didn’t know what to think. She didn’t know how Erena would react. Her voice was naught but a whisper when she finally spoke. “Thank you.”

Sandor scoffed and shook his head. “Should have been me.”

“Don’t say that.” Erena shook her head fervently. “Gawen shouldn’t have died, it’s true. But that doesn’t mean that _you_ should have. You killed Ramsay. And Roose Bolton, if the tales are true.” Sansa nodded for him.

“Then I thank you, Ser.”

“I’m not a knight.” Sandor finally said, not ungently. “Your brother was. A true knight, if there ever was one.”

A sad smile appeared to Erena’s lips. “That he was.” She turned her attention to Sansa, who still clutched onto her hand. “After everything, I wish you could have been my sister, but I hope that we can remain friends.”

Sansa felt herself smile. Even if she didn’t want to marry Gawen because of Sandor, she knew she would have been happy to be Erena’s goodsister. “I wish that so very much, Erena.”

She left soon after that, and it seemed as though an unspoken tension between them had finally been broken. When Sansa turned around Sandor had moved over for her on the bed. She hobbled herself over and managed to climb onto the bed again, molding herself against his form. They were quiet for a moment, her head resting on his arm. “Why didn’t you tell me about what Gawen said?”

Sandor shook his head. “I didn’t know how.”

Sansa could tell he was holding something back. She put her hand on his chest. “It wasn’t the only thing he said, was it?”

“No.” She waited for his chest to rise and fall under her hand for his inevitable answer. “He told me you deserved a good man. Said…” Sansa looked up at him. “He said, in his own way, that I would be good enough for you.” Sansa swallowed back the lump that appeared in her throat. “I’m so sorry Sansa.”

She sat up. “For what?”

He couldn’t look at her. “You… you should be with Gawen. He should be the one to take care of you. He’s the better man. I don’t deserve to be here with you. It should have been me that got killed – Ow.”

Sansa slapped him.

Immediately, she leaned forward and fell over him, her hands on either side of his head. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry I didn’t mean to do that!”

Sandor opened one eye. “I think you did.”

“Alright, I did, but then, I forgot about your face. I’m sorry!” She covered his face in kisses.

“It’s _alright_ girl, relax.”

“I won’t. Not until you take back what you said.” She kissed him again, and again.

“I’m not taking it back Sansa. It’s true.”

She stopped her kisses and pulled back slightly, still keeping her face close to his. “Sandor Clegane.” She let out something between a sigh and a laugh. “When are you going to understand that I want no one else but you? That I will never love anyone but you? When are you going to believe me?”

Any bit of humor that she might have been holding onto left her face by the end of her questions. With the way he clenched his jaw as he looked up at her, she knew his face was a reflection of hers. “I believe you.” His eyes searched hers for a moment and she waited. “But I will never…I’ll never understand it, little bird.”

Sansa let out a sigh and pressed her forehead to his. “I guess I’ll have to spend the rest of my life proving it to you then.”

His hands moved to her hips and pulled her down against him as he kissed her.

“Gah! Come on guys!”

Sandor pulled away from Sansa with a groan when they heard Rickon’s voice.

Sansa kept her eyes shut. “He’s not here. It’s just a bad dream.” She went to kiss Sandor again.

“Uhhh... No I’m really here.” Sansa groaned and turned over, flopping on her back on the bed before looking over to Rickon. “And so is the wheelhouse.”

Sansa sat up. “What?”

Rickon smiled. “Ready to go home?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Off to NJEA convention in Atlantic City!! Hope to post next one Sunday!


	93. Chapter 93

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. Here it is...the penultimate post...the last official chapter.  
> Epilogue will be up soon. After that, I’ll be starting my new fic.  
> I took a really long time with this, unlike how I rushed with the last one, so I hope its okay! Just...as per usual... You may need to suspend your disbelief and just be happy with happy. Good? Good.
> 
> Please note: I didn’t know how to indicate a long pause without saying *long pause*. So there are two points toward the end where you will see an ellipsis (…) To me, that means there is a long pause before the character responds.  
> Just…It’s just…You’ll see you’ll see.

“Shae!” Sansa would have ran if not for her crutch and still healing ankle. The foreign beauty waiting for her in the yard was a most welcome sight. Sansa limped over to her and hugged her the first chance she got. “Robb didn’t say he was sending you!”

“He didn’t know he was. Not until I hopped on at the last second.” Shae pulled back and gripped her shoulders. “I’m so mad at you! Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?”

Sansa was berated for the next few minutes, but she took it all in stride. She was just happy to see her friend again. “I’m so glad you’re here.” She finally said, leaving Shae to roll her eyes before taking the bag Sansa had brought with her. She watched as Shae brought it inside the wheelhouse. Sandor’s dagger and cloak were coming home, just like he was.

It took quite a long time, and he had to stop a few times along the way with his crutches, but Sandor eventually made it down to the yard on his own. She turned and saw him there, saying his goodbye and thanks to the Glovers. He looked like he was going to collapse once he got there, but remained standing for as long as it took to say his peace.

Sansa didn’t want to interrupt; Gawen’s parents and Erena nodding along as he spoke. In the end, Erena had leapt forward, wrapping her slender arms around his middle in a quick hug that nearly knocked Sandor off of his feet. Sansa didn’t know what he might have said to them to make the girl react so, but she didn’t feel like she had to know either.

Before she ran down to be surprised by Shae, Erena had brought her to Gawen’s grave. She felt nauseas the entire time, seeing his name carved into stone. It was just so wrong, that he should be buried while she live on a happy life. Erena had left her for a moment alone. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to the stone. “I’m so sorry for everything.” She didn’t know what she was expecting, to have felt better for visiting his grave maybe, but she didn’t. Not even in the slightest.

As she walked with Erena toward the yard to finally leave, they were quiet until the girl asked her, “Were you hoping to feel better?”

Sansa looked at her somewhat shamefully and nodded.

“It’s alright, you know. I know it’s going to take time to accept it myself.” Sansa still shuffled along, not knowing what to say, until Erena stopped her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Sansa, I had hoped I made this clear earlier, but maybe I hadn’t. You shouldn’t blame yourself for anything. What happened to Gawen was not your fault, nor was it Sandor’s.”

Sansa shook her head. “But-“

“You can’t blame yourself for loving someone else more than you could love my brother. That is not your fault. You did nothing inherently wrong. You understand that…don’t you?”

Etna’s words reverberated through Sansa’s mind in the few minutes since she had said them, but she didn’t know if she could ever possibly believe them herself.

Sandor turned and limped past her then, heading to the wheelhouse to settle in for the bumpy journey. Sansa and Rickon used the time they had left to thank the Glovers again. She saved Erena for last, and realized, probably too late, that she didn’t want to say goodbye.

“Thank you, for everything.” Sansa told her as they hugged.

She felt Erena nod against her shoulder. “Remember what I told you, alright?”

Sansa made herself nod before pulling away. Erena smiled warmly and kissed her on the cheek. “Write to me.”

Sansa promised she would before hobbling over to the wheelhouse. She waved to all of them through the window in the wheelhouse as they disappeared in the distance, Rickon, Shaggy and Darol at the head of the pack. Shae helped her to her seat, the cushioned bench across from where Sandor lay.

“Seems familiar, doesn’t it?” He grated out to her.

Sansa could picture it, and it seemed like so long ago. When she rescued him from the fire, that she now knew was caused by the bastard Ramsay, they had laid in the same spots as the traveled to Winterfell together. Now here they were, even more worse for the wear, going back to do the same. Sandor’s lone walk down the stairs and out to the yard had clearly taken a lot out of him. He was pale again, and he looked like he was going to pass out from exhaustion at any moment. She wanted him to rest, but wanted to talk to him too. She opened her mouth to speak, but Shae was faster.

“I have so much to catch you up on, Sansa…”

Sansa closed her mouth and listened intently to her friend tell her all about her wedding plans, set in a few months when Conall finally had the time. When she chanced a look at Sandor only a moment later, she saw that he was already fast asleep.

-

“Little bird.”

“Hmm?”

It was night now. She was resting against a few pillows, her foot elevated as Maester Cedric had suggested. Sandor was in the same spot as well, and suddenly eager to speak to her about something under the cover of darkness. “I think now that we are on our way back, you may want to tell me what it was that made your brother so angry the night we left.”

“Oh.”

Their small group had stopped to rest. Shae had only just left them a moment ago to get in her tent.

She and Sandor had talked about nearly everything by then, even how Ramsay admitted to being the one that lit his tent on fire. It didn’t make any sense to Sansa at first, but then it just seemed so obvious the more she thought about it, which is something she was honestly trying to avoid.

Sansa didn’t realize until now, how much she had been avoiding this particular topic. There were moments, in their rare time alone without Rickon over the past few days that she could tell he was about to ask, but she always managed to change the subject somehow, or had counted on Rickon’s constant interruptions. But with Rickon tucked safely in the pallet in his tent, she had no escape.

“Oh.” Sandor mimicked her. Even in the darkness she could see him raising his eyebrow. “How does he know?”

Sansa’s nails dug into her palms. “How do you know he knows?”

Sandor sighed. “How does he know, Sansa?”

She could barely hear her voice with her own ears, but he could. “I told him.”

Sandor fidgeted until he was sitting up a little straighter. “You _told_ him.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I thought you left me and I temporarily lost my mind.” Sansa gasped and covered her mouth. “I’m sorry. Did I say that out loud?”

Sandor didn’t take his eyes off hers as he breathed in deeply. “You did.”

“I’m sorry. I-“

“Stop apologizing, girl. I’m the one who should be groveling at your feet. Would be too, if I bloody well could.” Sandor nearly snapped. He was angry, but Sansa could see it in his eyes; he was angry with himself. Angry for putting her in that situation. For hurting her. But he wouldn’t have said the last thing if he was truly angry with her. She had to hide a smile before he finished, imagining him on his knees in front of her. “Just tell me what happened.” He said. “Everything.”

So she did. She told him what happened that night after he had left her. She explained how Rickon came for her, how he wanted her to explain their relationship to Robb. He was convinced he would understand.

“I tried to get Rickon to realize that it didn’t matter, because… well. I thought you had left.” Sandor closed his eyes, but beckoned her to continue. “And then I just couldn’t take it anymore. I…I shouted it at Robb. He was furious, but I didn’t think he would do what he did, because…” She looked down at her hands, before she repeated. “I thought you had left.”

He was quiet for a moment and Sansa couldn’t bear to look at him. He sighed before he spoke. “I’ll never forgive myself for what I did to you.”

Sansa looked up. “Don’t. You apologized enough already.” And he had. He had told her how Ramsay had gotten in his head, how he couldn’t stand the pressure anymore. She didn’t blame him and she forgave him instantly. She only wished he would do himself the same courtesy. Sansa inhaled slowly and got to her feet. She shuffled herself over toward him as he watched her before she knelt down close to him, taking his hand in hers. “You need to get over it. I have.”

Sandor rolled his eyes before he continued. “Well. I’m glad you came to resurrect me from my deathbed. Because your brother is going to put me right back, you can be sure of it.”

“No he won’t.” Sansa knew he wouldn’t, but she didn’t sound all together convincing, whispering it against his hand, she had to admit.

“Oh no?” He pulled his hand away. “You tell me what a king might want to do upon finding out his sister is being fucked by someone like me.”

She knew he was trying to shock her, scare her even, but it wasn’t going to work. She raised herself higher on her knees so that she was eye level with him. “Oh please. He could have done it any moment when you were on the road alone, without me to stop him. And he didn’t.” Sandor rolled his eyes again but offered no other argument. Sansa had more to say, she realized. “I talked to him before I left. Tried to get him to let me come to you. He wouldn’t.”

“And rightly so.” He barked, looking back at her. “Look what happened to you on the way!”

“ _Besides_ that.” Sansa gritted her teeth and stood, crossing her arms over her chest. “He told me you saved his life.” Sandor clenched his jaw and looked away from her. She had already thanked him for this action, but he clearly still didn’t want to hear any of it, so she moved on. “He looked so…lost. So confused. Torn even. Like he didn’t know what to think, let alone do with this information, this betrayal with the Boltons.” Sansa sighed, knowing she wasn’t getting through to him. “With all that happened, I know he won’t _kill_ you. But I am also confident that he won’t send you away.”

He still wouldn’t look at her. _What a baby._ She bent down over him, resting her hands on the pillow on either side of his head. He finally looked at her, taken aback it seemed, by her sudden movement. “I love you and I’m never going to leave your side again. So you had better get used to the idea.”

He had no response to that. He just stared at her with an intensity in his grey eyes that made her stomach flutter. The only sound she could hear was his deep breaths, the wind howling from outside the wheelhouse in the night. She hummed when she realized it.

“What is it?” He rasped from under her.

Sansa was quiet for a moment before she whispered. “We’re alone.”

He squinted his eyes at her. “What?”

“Rickon is asleep in his tent. Shae too. We are really and truly alone.”

Sandor raised his eyebrow at her, “Sansa…” but she was too fast for him.

She scrambled on top of him, clumsier than she thought possible, but he gripped onto her all the same. She kissed him hard, and he showed her no hesitation, even with his nose still healing. Her arms wrapped underneath and around his neck. His arms snaked around her waist, crushing her to him from head to toe. Sansa didn’t realize how she could possible hurt him until he grunted in pain underneath her.

She pulled away in an instant. “I’m sorry!” She rolled onto her left side, away from his wound. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you! Are you alri-“

“Quiet girl.” He rasped, pulling her against him again. “I won’t have you waking anyone up and ruining this for me.”

Sansa sighed. “But how are we going to-“

“Slowly.” He rumbled from his chest, his lips vibrating against hers. “Very slowly.”

It took more than a moment, and Sansa found it easier to get up to disrobe, but soon she was out of any trace of clothing. They worked together to take his many layers off, but thought better of trying to get the breeches all the way down his legs.

She had a fleeting thought, remembering their nightly meetings on the way back from Deepwood. How hurried they were. How they barely kissed or touched. How he had pulled out of her. But this was nothing like that. Not even in the slightest. His fingers traced the little bumps left by the cold air on her skin. As she moved against him, trailing her mouth down his neck, she felt him wrap a fur around her shoulders, shrouding them in the heat they created together.

Neither of them said a word; they didn’t need to. There wasn’t much room at all, there on the wide bench in the wheelhouse, but it made no matter. They knew each other now. They moved expertly with one another, even when Sansa slipped her legs over either side of him. She couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her lips when she lowered herself onto him, hardened as he was. Even with how slowly, how carefully they moved, it didn’t take either of them long to get where they needed to be. Sansa came first, silencing herself against his shoulder. He soon followed her, not even trying to lift her off of himself as he had before. They laid there together, warm, sated and happy in the darkness.

Sansa knew she couldn’t stop Sandor from worrying about what awaited them, but she knew she wouldn’t waste their time together by doing such a thing.

Two more days passed in the same manner. They spent the days with Shae and sometimes Rickon in the wheelhouse; the nights on their own. Sansa knew she could have ridden Stranger, her ankle feeling almost completely back to normal. But she decided against it, preferring to stay by Sandor’s side all the while. He was able to get up two or three times a day as he needed, but still had to say seated or laying down for the most part. The bruising around his eyes and nose were near completely gone by the time they saw Winterfell in the distance.

When they finally did arrive, it was her mother and her mother alone who greeted her.

She pulled her close when she exited the wheelhouse and whispered in her ear. “Robb told me everything.” Sansa felt frozen to the spot. She didn’t move, she didn’t blink or breathe as her mother pulled away from her. Her face was unreadable as she took Sansa’s hand. “Come.”

Sansa didn’t know what to think. She had been so worried about Robb that she didn’t even give a second thought about her mother. Her feet moved without her telling them to, even with her slight limp. Her heart was in her throat the whole way to her mother’s solar. She didn’t have the stomach to turn back and find Sandor when her mother pulled her away, but now she was wishing she had never left his side.

Catelyn ushered her into her solar, closing the door behind them both. She gestured toward the couch. “Here. Have a seat.”

Sansa couldn’t move. She just stared at her mother, waiting for the attack. When none came, she decided to speak up. “Are you going to lock me up for the rest of my life?”

Her mother sighed. She looked tired. “Of course not.”

“And Sandor. Are you going to send him away?”

Catelyn took a deep breath. “It’s not my decision, Sansa.”

“Then what would you have Robb do?” Catelyn stared back at her and said nothing. “Mother.”

Catelyn seemed to snap to attention, but her voice still remained calm. “I would have him sent to the Night’s Watch.”

Sansa took a step away from her. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am. But like I said, it is not my decision.”

“But… he saved Robb’s life. He’s saved mine countless times.” Catelyn turned her head away. “Mother. I love him.” When she said the words, her voice broke and her mother flinched. “Does that matter for nothing?”

What happened next was so far from anything Sansa had been expecting. Catelyn moved to her armchair in the room and sat down with a huff. She wrung her hands together and looked at the ground. She was so quiet when she finally spoke, that Sansa had to move closer to hear her. “Sansa, you need to understand just how guilty I feel…for all of this.”

“Guilty?” Sansa couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her mouth. It was just so ridiculous. “What in the world could you possibly feel guilty for?”

Her mother was quiet for a moment before she finally looked up at her. She had tears in her eyes. “For not trusting my instincts. For leaving you with him for all this time. Letting him be alone with you, to intimidate you, to manipulate you into believing that you could ever possibly love a man such as him.”

Sansa felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. It sounded like it too, when she spoke. “How could you say such a thing? Do you not know me at all? How naïve do you honestly think me to be?” Catelyn turned away, demurely wiping a tear that had fallen onto her cheek. Sansa took a few steps closer. “Look at me.” When she did, her mother looked horribly distraught, as if she really did hold all the blame for something so absurd. Sansa had to put an end to it. “Mother I assure you, Sandor did nothing to persuade me into this relationship. In fact, if you must know, I’m the one that practically forced him.” She could feel her cheeks warm with the wider Catelyn’s eyes became, _but if this was the only way to convince her…_ “I’ve never wanted anything half as much as I want to be with him. Aside from our family being whole again, Sandor is the only thing I’ve ever wanted.” She didn’t realize how true the words were until she said them aloud.

Her mother blinked at her and her voice was grave when she answered. “You once told me that marrying Joffrey was the only thing you ever wanted.” As soon as she said the words, Catelyn looked like she regretted it.

“Don’t you say that.” Sansa started, trying to contain the anger that sprung up out of nowhere from her mother’s uncouth words. “Don’t throw the words of that stupid girl in my face. I’m not her anymore. And even you can see that there is no comparison when it comes to Joffrey and Sandor. Sandor would never hurt me. He would never-” Sansa bit her tongue. Telling her mother more of what Joffrey had done and tried to do to her would not help this situation. _Neither would getting angry_. She took a deep breath to calm herself. “Please. Understand that what has happened between Sandor and I was every bit my decision.”

Catelyn was quiet for another moment before a sad smile came to her face. “I remember when you were three years old, the first time you mastered a curtsey. You were so…so happy. And I was so proud of you. The perfect little lady, at so young an age.”

Sansa swallowed before she spoke. “Is that why you are upset? Because you don’t think I am a lady anymore?”

“No Sansa. That’s not why I am upset.”

“Then what is it?” Sansa didn’t know why, but she needed to hear her mother say the words.

And she did. “You’ve been having an illicit affair with a man. Not only was this man in the service of our enemy, but the former personal guard of the man who had your father killed, had you beaten, tormented for years!”

Sansa spoke through a clenched jaw. “Sandor had nothing to do with any of that and you know it.”

Catelyn huffed impatiently. “Sansa, that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what do you mean?” She asked, louder than she had meant to.

Catelyn gritted her teeth, looking torn. “It’s not _right_. I shouldn’t even have to say it.”

Sansa shook her head, suddenly free of any care in the world. “I’m sorry Mother, but I do not care.” Her mother gasped lightly, looking more accosted than Sansa felt she had any right to. And she continued. “I don’t care that he used to keep Joffrey safe. I don’t care that he once fought against Robb. I don’t care that he is the second son of a small house. I don’t care that he can be rude, foul-mouthed and short-tempered. I don’t care that he is scarred!”

Catelyn sat there, her mouth agape, in complete shock. Sansa thought over her words and then thought better of them. She took another breath and straightened her shoulders.

“In fact, I am happy for it. For all of it. For it is because of these things that he has become the man that I love. The man who can make me feel better, stronger, just by standing next to me. The man who loves Rickon as if he were his own brother. The man that saved the life of your eldest son without a second thought.” Catelyn closed her eyes, but Sansa went on. “The man that has cared for me, who has kept me safe, long before he had any allegiance to me. _Gods_ , Mother. You don’t even know the half of it!”

“My gods. Sansa.” Catelyn’s eyes widened. “What else has he done?”

Sansa froze. Would telling her mother the details of everything Joffrey had done to her - how he had tried to rape her - would that even help the situation? After a moment, she decided against it again and shook her head. “I don’t feel the need to say. And I hope that you love me and trust me enough to accept that the specific things I speak of hardly matter anymore. Telling you will bring you nothing but grief and unnecessary guilt. Sandor knows because he was there. Because he helped me and went through it all too.” Sansa trailed off, trying to think of the right words. “The things that we have been through, Sandor and I, both together and apart, they are in the past. We’ve helped each other…heal. It all mattered once, but now that we have each other…not nearly as much. The only thing that does matter is that we both came out of our experiences. Alive. And together. With Robb’s help, and yours of course.”

Sansa didn’t know when she became so prolific, but she hoped that her mother’s silence was proof that she was at least listening to what she had to say.

It was another moment before Catelyn spoke again. “Do you regret it?” “Regret it? No.” Sansa laughed. “Not in the slightest.” The look of disappointment still hadn’t left her mother’s face, thought it had softened somewhat. So Sansa had to continue. “I do wish, however, that we could have gone about this in a more traditional way. That I didn’t have to lie. That Gawen didn’t have to get involved…But all of that would have been impossible. You would have never let me entertain the thought of getting to know Sandor in such a way.”

Catelyn scoffed. “You are absolutely correct in that.”

Sansa sighed. After all she said, she was still getting nowhere. She had to try harder. _I have to make her see what I do._ “It’s not just what he’s done for me. He’s changed so much. He’s not the man he used to be. The man he was _forced_ to be, by his family, by the Lannisters. He used to be so angry. He used to frighten me. But he’s not that man anymore and he hasn’t been for the longest time. And I think… I think it’s because of me. Of his love for me.”

“Oh please, Sansa. You can’t honestly believe that this man has any true love for you. He’s not even capable of it.”

Sansa took a breath to calm herself. “Mother. If only you could know how very wrong you are.” She took a step closer to Catelyn where she sat, and her voice became softer. “If you knew even half of what this man had been through, you… you would know that I speak the truth.”

A wrinkle appeared in Catelyn’s brow. “Sansa, do you mean to tell me how he was scarred?” Her mother leaned forward and took Sansa’s hand in hers. “Help me understand. What exactly happened to him?”

Sansa stalled. _Is this really what it would take for her to understand? Would it truly benefit her to comprehend why I love him, how he loves me, or would it merely satisfy her own curiosity_?

Sansa thought back to the first time they kissed, covered in snow and laughter in the godswood. She had looked down at his scars after they had fallen, realizing for the first time how dreadfully attractive he was to her. She had told him then that she never told anyone his secret. He said that he knew. If he believed her then, before they had even kissed, then how could she ever go back on her word, especially now? Sansa was shaking her head before she even finished the thought.

“I can’t betray his trust. Even if it were to help you understand. He told me years ago. I think he always regretted it, until recently.” Sansa knelt down in front of her, still clutching onto her hand. “You need to understand, I am the _only one_ who knows. I’m the _only one_ he ever told. Can’t you have respect for that fact? The fact that I’m the single person in the world that he’s ever trusted enough to tell? That I have kept that trust, since I was just a girl?” Sansa’s vision became blurry when she realized she was pleading with her mother. “Can you just believe me when I tell you that we do love each other? With a love like I know you and father grew to have for one another. I’m young yes, I know, but I am not stupid. Not anymore. I am not naïve and I have not been coerced. Please, tell me you at least believe me. That I _chose_ this man. That I love him. That I _want_ to be with him for the rest of my life.”

Sansa blinked the tears away and as they fell down her face, she saw that her mother was crying too. But it wasn’t a look of understanding on her face, nor was it acceptance, but rather - love. Love a mother has for her daughter. That and overwhelming pity.

Catelyn reached down to Sansa and took her face in both of her hands and wiped her tears away with her thumbs. “I cannot condone what you have done, Sansa. I doubt I will ever understand. But yes. I do believe you.”

-

As soon as she left her mother’s solar, Sansa didn’t know what to think. She didn’t know what to expect when she went in there, but she never thought she would end up on her knees, crying to her mother.

She felt foolish as soon as her mother helped her stand and brought her into a hug, but at least she had been honest. It felt almost refreshing to be able to talk to her about Sandor so freely for the first time. Her mother offered her no words in comfort as to what Robb had planned for Sandor, but she felt that it was because she truly didn’t know. And she didn’t say so, but Sansa was sure that after everything she had said, that her mother wouldn’t still want Sandor to be sent off to the Night’s Watch if it was up to her.

“Princess.” Sansa had been so lost in her own thoughts that she didn’t even notice the man standing in the hall until she nearly walked into him. It was one of Robb’s guards and he was waiting for her. “The King has requested an audience with you.”

Sansa couldn’t help but laugh. _An audience. How formal for a brother and sister._ She just nodded, ignoring the look on the man’s face, before he turned around and beckoned her to follow him to Robb’s solar.

He wouldn’t kill Sandor, she knew that for certain. But could he be as harsh as her mother originally wanted? _Would he dare send Sandor to the Night’s Watch? Would he send him away, back to his home in the west? A place he hated more than anywhere in the world?_

Sansa felt like it was an ending, even more so with every step she took in the direction of her brother. _Did he already send Sandor away? Gods, could he really be so cruel, not to permit me to say goodbye?_ Sansa knew there would be no goodbye anyway, no matter what Robb had planned. She would never leave Sandor again. She had promised him.

That fact didn’t make her feel any better as she came up to Robb’s door. _Is it too late? Can we turn and run? Can we flee and leave all of this mess behind us?_ Sansa’s escort knocked on the thick wooden door separating her and her judgement and any hope she might have had crumbled beneath her feet.

“Come in.” Her brother sounded grave from inside and if she was on her own, Sansa knew she would have turned away at that moment. The door was opened for her and she was shuffled inside before she could even react, and the door shut again behind her.

Robb was seated at his desk, hunched over a parchment, writing so furiously with his quill that she thought he was going to snap it in two. She knew she should address him, but she seemed to have lost her words. Instead she just cleared her throat.

Robb looked up right away. “Sansa.” He breathed as he dropped his quill, pushed back his chair and bounded over to her. For a fleeting second, she thought her meant to strike. She flinched, tensing when he got to her, and she remained unmoved as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a fierce embrace.

 

Sandor

“Lame? A cripple? Is that what you’re telling me I am now?”

Maester Luwin sighed with his practiced patience. “I’ve said nothing of the sort. I said you will have a slight limp. You will be able to walk, perhaps even run. But no, your leg will likely never heal back to the way it was.”

So it was true. He would have a limp, Maester Luwin was convinced. He had suffered damage of the nerves with the deep cut from the bastard. The old man seemed pleased with the work Maester Cedric had done, but he came to the grave conclusion all the same. _Of all the ways this damned leg had been injured…_

_Ugly, scarred and lame. Now she’ll truly realize the mistake she made in choosing me. She’ll be glad when he ships me off to fuck knows where._

He hadn’t seen Sansa, not since her mother had taken her away as soon as they had arrived. Rickon had helped him to Maester Luwin, and he couldn’t wait to get out of there. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was afraid. He didn’t know what sentence he would receive from the Northern King, but he knew it would be nothing that he or Sansa would ever had wanted. He tried to enjoy the past few days alone with her, knowing they would likely be the last.

He still couldn’t believe the way he reacted when Sansa finally came to him at Deepwood. _Crying like a fucking baby._ The last time he had cried was the night the Blackwater burned. When he was with her, when she sang for him. He knew she could tell what was happening, even though she didn’t say anything. But if she didn’t judge him for the way he acted that night in King’s Landing, then he knew she wouldn’t judge him now.None of it was to matter though, as he was waiting to face the king. He didn’t know if he was pissed or pleased that the old maester decided to tell him nothing of Robb’s thoughts, one way or the other. Maester Luwin helped him to his crutches and to the door, all ready and bandaged fresh for his departure, he was sure.

Rickon and Shaggy were at the door when it opened. The boy looked grim as he looked up at Sandor. “Robb wants to see you.”

Sandor groaned under his breath. “Of course he does.”

Rickon turned and held out his arm, becoming Sandor’s own personal walking stick. He handed the one crutch to Rickon, as the boy knew he preferred to take the pressure off of from under his arm when he could. Sandor patted Rickon’s shoulder before leaning heavily on it as they limped down the hall. “It was nice knowing you, little wolf.” Rickon elbowed him in the side, but otherwise remained quiet all the way to Robb’s solar.

When the door came into view, Sandor couldn’t help the overwhelming feeling of absolute hopelessness that came over him. “Make sure I get to see your sister. At least for a moment, before he sends me away”

He felt Rickon tense under his hand, heard him gulp in his throat, as he handed him back his crutch. “I will.”

 _Even the boy knows I’m doomed._ The guards permitted him entry without even knocking. King Robb was standing behind his desk, looking down at some parchment until he heard him come in.When Robb looked up at him, he didn’t say anything. He just stared.

So Sandor spoke. “Your Grace.”

Robb blinked, his face unreadable, and he held his hand out to the chair opposite his desk. “Sit.”

Sandor moved away from Rickon and limped forward into the room alone on his crutches. He heard the door close behind him, sounding like the lock slipping closed on his death sentence.

The king was quiet for a moment, assessing him it seemed, before he finally spoke. “How are you healing?”

Sandor tried to keep his face blank as he sat heavily - tried not to show the skepticism that radiated throughout him. “Well enough.”

Robb nodded, glancing down at his papers again as he sat down across from him. “Good…Good…” He sniffed, and looked back up at Sandor. _Just spit it out, man. Let’s get this over with._ Robb sighed, and leaned forward in his chair. “First, I wanted to thank you. For saving my life during the battle.”

Sandor was quiet for a moment before he answered. “Boltons had it coming.”

“Well, you have my thanks - and the queen’s - all the same.”

Sandor nodded once. He didn’t want to seem ungrateful for the thanks, but he couldn’t comprehend why the king was choosing now to say this. He was quiet for another second before he finally said - “Better get right down to it then.”

_About fucking time._

Robb looked pensive. “I trusted the Boltons.” He wasn’t even looking at Sandor, but past him, lost in his own thoughts. “My father didn’t trust them, but I did. My mother was wary at the beginning, but I ignored her. Sansa didn’t feel comfortable near them, but I did.” Robb looked up at him then, his eyes set on Sandor’s. “You told me not to trust them…and I still did.”

Sandor stayed quiet. _Just what is he getting at?_

“Walda Bolton - Roose’s wife, Roslin’s relative - is not pregnant. Roslin made certain.” _Walda Bol - Why the fuck is he telling me about that prick’s widow?_ “She’s going back to live at the Twins.” He continued. “That leaves the Dreadfort without an heir. Without a lord. It’s up to me, as king, to see that someone capable takes charge of the hold and the lands underneath it.” Robb sighed and leaned back into his chair. “I realized it too late, that I shouldn’t put trust in people that I do not know well enough. Better to be surrounded by family, whenever possible, I’ve decided.”

He was getting to the point, Sandor could feel it. And then he said it staring Sandor right in the eye.

“I’m giving Sansa the Dreadfort.”

…

“ _You’re what_?”

“You heard me.”

“Why?”

“As I said. I need to be surrounded by those I trust. By family.” When Sandor didn’t say anything, Robb continued. “She will be Sansa Stark, Princess of Winterfell and Lady of the Dreadfort.”

Sandor felt his head moving from side to side before the king even stopped speaking. “She’ll never agree to it. She hated being in charge when she was here on her own.”

“I think that’s just because she _was_ on her own, stressed, pressured, alone. Ruling the Dreadfort won’t be nearly as arduous. Besides she will have my support, my mother’s, Rickon’s. She’ll be close to her family this time. Closer than she would have been at Deepwood.”

Sandor scoffed at that. “A woman ruling a house in the North. Your Northern lords won’t be happy with that, you can be damn sure.”                        

He heard Robb gnash his teeth as his eyes darkened with anger. “Don’t you forget that one of those _Northern lords_ betrayed me. Planned a rebellion against me. A woman is ruling the rest of the six bloody kingdoms in Westeros. They’ll learn to deal with the idea.”

Sandor hadn’t stopped shaking his head. “She’ll never agree to it.” He repeated.

Robb tilted his head to the side and scratched at the hair on his jaw. “You’re mistaken. She already has.” He looked as shocked as Sandor felt.

“She’s agreed? Today? You told her today?” Sandor never felt like such a bumbling fool.

“Yes. Yes she agreed. On one condition.” Robb shook his head as he said it, before leaning forward again and pointing his finger at Sandor. “One that I was already prepared to make, mind you.” Robb was quiet for a moment, seemingly chewing over his words. Sandor’s mind was completely alert, his hairs standing on end, just waiting for what Robb was going to say. The king looked him straight in the eye. “You’re going to marry her.”

…

“Have you lost your _fucking_ mind?” Sandor roared, but the king did not flinch.

“Probably.” Robb leaned back in his chair again. “But I’ve made my decision all the same.” He reached forward and tapped the parchment on his desk, as if it were some kind of document solidifying this fact that made no bloody sense.

Sandor couldn’t move from his spot to look, so he said the first thing that came to mind. “Why?”

“Because it’s what she wants. She’s made it bloody clear that she won’t marry anyone else. And I made it clear that I want her at the Dreadfort, starting a family of her own - a new branch of House Stark. She brought up that fact that no Northern man is going to want to forgo his family name.” The king shrugged. “In addition to all of that, you already know her in ways that only a husband should know his wife. Not much is going to have to change. It just makes sense, doesn’t it?” He finished with just a touch of sarcasm at the edge of his words and Sandor didn’t know what to think.

 _He’s lost it. He truly has. He’s lost his buggering mind._ His own voice sounded far away. “I don’t know anything about ruling.”

Robb sighed again. “She tells me you do. Says you are more clever than you let on. I chose to believe her. You having lived in King’s Landing for half your life, you might have learned something.”

Sandor squinted at him. “From who? The prick Joffrey or his crazy bitch of a mother?”

“I was thinking, Jon Arryn. My father. Even Tywin Lannister for fuck’s sake.” He shrugged once more, trying not to get frustrated, it was obvious. “Besides, you won’t even be in charge. You’ll stand by her side as her Lord Consort. Nothing more, unless she wants it.”

 _Thank the gods for that,_ Sandor wanted to say, but he had never been more lost for words than he was at that moment.

“As I said, she’s already agreed.” Robb tapped the parchment again, gesturing Sandor to move forward and look, so he did. There it was, plain as day, right in his face. Sansa’s pretty curling letters, signing her name, accepting the lands and responsibilities that come with the title - Lady of the Dreadfort.

His mind was in a whirl. They’d only just arrived. Not five minutes ago, he thought he was going to be killed or sent to the wall. And here he was, about to agree to _marry_ Sansa _fucking_ Stark - to be her _Lord Consort_.

“I take your silence to mean that you are shocked.” Robb went on. Sandor looked up at him. He couldn’t imagine what his face might be like at that second. “Rightly so, I should think. Look, Clegane…” Robb started, his eyes softening somewhat. “I explained all this to her, but I guess you’ll need to hear it from me too, if I expect you to believe it.” He was quiet for a moment, and all Sandor could hear was the pounding in his own head. “These past few months have been a bloody mess, trying to settle the kingdom again. I know how well she took care of things when I was in King’s Landing. If I had to start all over with the Dreadfort…” He turned his head. “It’s easier this way, really.”

 _A coward’s excuse_ , Sandor thought. There was more to it, and Sandor remained silent until Robb finally turned back to look him in the eye, completely reluctantly. “Seeing that she was willing to leave on her own to be with you…that’s what change my mind. At first I thought she was mad. What could make this girl leave in the middle of winter, all on her own?” He paused, thinking. “Then I thought, would I do any different if it were Roslin?”

He looked away from Sandor again, back down at the parchment on his desk. “Not only that, I felt incredibly selfish. Horrible. There you were, lying half-dead, after just saving my life, after you owed me nothing…and I wouldn’t even let her go say goodbye? Why? Because she was too afraid to tell me, her own brother, her true feelings? How happy she was in the relationship she found herself in with you? I realized that if she were willing to risk that much, for a man who risked his life to save hers countless times, for a man who had only just saved mine…” Robb looked back at him again. “This betrayal made me realize who I really trust.”

Sandor squinted at him again. “You _trust_ me?”

“I trust my sister.” Robb clenched his jaw. “You aren’t the best choice for her. I’m sure you know that. But you are far and away from being the worst.”

Sandor nodded slowly, taking in his words. “It’s not the worst compliment I’ve ever had…I just don’t understand.”

Robb rolled his eyes, his voice raising in volume with his impatience. “Do you love Sansa?”

“I do.”

“Do you want to marry her?”

Sandor hesitated. Never in his life did he ever expect to be asked such a ridiculously absurd question. But the answer was obvious. “Yes.”

“Then what is there to understand? You’re getting what you wanted.” Robb shook his head. “I would threaten you, should you ever hurt her, but I know there is no need. Already know you’d gut anyone who touches a hair on her head.” Robb sighed for the hundredth time and eyed him again. “By all the gods, I’ll never understand it myself, but…I do trust you… _with her_. To keep her safe. To love her. Father her children.” Sandor held his eye for a moment and he knew, for some reason, that he truly meant what he said. The look of irritation was back on Robb’s face in an instant. “Out with it, then. Do you accept my offer? Yes or no?”

Sandor found himself nodding somewhat gravely. “Aye. I do.”

Robb clapped his hand on the desk. “Good. Better go see to Sansa then. She’s beside herself, saying there’s something she has to get done before the wedding.”

“The wedding…”

“Yours!” Robb narrowed his eyes at him. “It’s in two weeks. Did I not say that?” He waved his hand at him. “Nothing extravagant. Small ceremony and feast with the family. Sansa made it clear that’s all she wanted.”

Sandor nodded, still frozen to the spot, staring at her name written on the deed for the Dreadfort.

“Clegane…” Sandor looked up at him slowly, feeling his brow contorted and tensed in his confusion.

Robb’s eyes were wide now as he observed him. “Go.” He made a dismissive move with his hand and Sandor knew it was time to leave.

He raised himself from the chair and found his crutches. He moved slowly, feeling like he was going to be stopped. Like Robb was going to say, _actually, that was all a jape – come back so I can kill you._ He was ready for the rug to be ripped out from underneath him. For the guards to take him and send him on his way. _Something_. But the closer he got to the door, the further that possibility became.

He knocked on it and it opened up for him immediately. He chanced a look back to the king, who was already busy shuffling through the mess of parchment on his desk.

“What is it?” Rickon was still there, outside the door. Sandor turned back to him and shuffled forward so the heavy door could close behind him. Rickon tugged on his arm and he finally looked down. The boy’s eyes were wide, fearful, probably mimicking the look Sandor felt on his face. “What happened? Is he going to send you away?”

All Sandor could do was shake his head. As the boy battered him with question after question, something caught the corner of his eye; a flash of copper, whipping down the other end of the hall. When he looked up, she stopped and turned around to face him. Rickon’s frantic, excited questions faded away in a second.

All Sandor was aware of was her. The brilliant smile that appeared on her face when she saw him in the distance, her blue eyes glittering with happiness, the sound of her warm laughter ringing in his ear.

Sansa. _My_ Sansa. My _wife_. _My little bird._


	94. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole thing ended up longer than I wanted it to be, (longer than it had any right to be if I am being completely honest), but I suppose I am pretty happy with it. It’s crazy though, how different I would do this entire thing if I were to start it now! But maybe that’s the beauty of writing; it reflects where you were in your life at that time. Started out in grad school and now I’m a real life adult teacher!
> 
> So, this is actually it. And I kind of want to cry, but I’m really happy it’s over! Originally, this really was supposed to be just a short epilogue, but it turned into a near 10k word monster. Sorry.  
> See the end for another message loves!

Sansa

The bride had been beautiful. She blushed prettily under the red leaves in the godswood as her husband cloaked her under his protection. The reception afterwards had taken place in one of the small meeting rooms off of Winterfell’s great hall. The air was warm but light - filled with laughter and cheers from the guests of Winterfell and Wintertown that packed the space.

Shae’s wedding happened just in time. They were departing for the Dreadfort tomorrow, and Sansa had made sure that their last night in Winterfell was a perfect one. Shae had requested that there be music and drink, she cared for nothing else. Sansa had seen to that and more. Seeing Shae laugh and dance with Conall put a bigger smile on her face than she knew was possible. Sansa was breathless after her second dance with one of Conall’s good friends. He asked a third of her when the dance ended, but she begged for a break and went off to the edge of the floor to watch.

It took her a minute, but she found her own husband across the room. She squinted her eyes at Sandor remembering all the times she begged him to dance with her in the past. She thought to ask him again, but only briefly, knowing how swift his refusal would be with his new limp. He offered her a small smile, but nothing more. Sansa returned it before turning away to find something to cure the rumbling in her stomach. She saw the last of the confections left over on a table close by and headed toward it, already spotting the last little lemon cake on the platter.

But before she could make it there, she was swept up in someone’s arms. It transpired so quickly, she had only a moment to realize what was happening. She knew it was Sandor who gripped her around her waist, who held her hand in his. _But where did he come from so fast? And why are we spinning?_

He stopped and let go of her, almost as quickly as he materialized. It happened so fast, that no one else would have noticed. He kept her on the outskirts and spun her around. Twice _. He_ danced _with me._ She looked around, but lost him in the crowd already. She was left standing there, her mouth open, her heart pounding, dizzy and speechless on the edge of the dance floor.

-

Later that night, Sansa found herself alone in their temporary quarters. It had only been about two months since Robb told them they were to be married, and already so much has happened. Their home at the Dreadfort was being prepared for their arrival. Robb had sent a group in her name to weed out any undesirables and to get the castle ready for its new tenants. Sansa had given strict instructions to scrub the place from the tallest tower to the lowest dungeon. She and Sandor would have no Bolton stench lingering in their home, no matter what form it took. There would be no leeches. No trace of pink left either. It was being sanitized from the inside out and Sansa knew that she would make the best of it once she could arrive herself. For the time being, she and Sandor had been moved to one of the larger quarters in the family apartments since their wedding night. It had a modest privy attached which worked out well for Sansa in her present state.

She had gone up to their room before Sandor after trying to say goodbye to Shae. The girl waved her away then, with a kiss on the cheek, promising to see her off to the Dreadort in the morning. Sansa was sure she wouldn’t have to worry. They would see each other often enough, she would make certain.

Sansa looked for her husband, but saw him involved in an animated conversation with a few of the men and decided to leave him be. _I owe him for_ dancing _with me, no matter how brief the moment lasted._ Besides, it was about time he make a Northern friend other than his ten year old goodbrother. _He is a Northerner himself now, in truth._ The thought made Sansa smile as she thought of it.

Alone in their room, she started to feel a little nostalgic, thinking of her own wedding. It had been a small affair, just what she had asked for. She couldn’t imagine planning an elaborate party for those remaining from the battle to celebrate, so soon after they had lost so much. Robb was eager to get the process started of making her Lady of the Dreadfort, and they had agreed in that first meeting that a small, swift ceremony would work best for all.

Robb told his bannermen that very evening. Sansa stood outside the door to listen, but she couldn’t hear it behind the thick wooden door as the conversation began. She _did_ know the exact moment that he told them the news, however. She jumped when the deep, strong voices of the men inside erupted in outrage from behind the door. For a panicked moment, she was sure they would make Robb change his mind. That was until she heard his voice carrying over all of theirs combined. It was then that Sansa thought she should just wait down the hall. There wasn’t another uproar after that. She watched from afar as they filed out one by one an hour later, looking all together irritated, but not like they were going to abandon her brother. When they had all dissipated, Sansa ran into the room and found Robb there, his head in his hand at the end of the table. She dashed over to him and threw her arms around his shoulders. She felt relief when he let out a small, tired laugh. She told Robb she didn’t want a big wedding. All she wanted was to marry the man she loved in the godswood with the family that she had left. And that is what he had given her.

Walking down the aisle with Robb toward Sandor was like something out of a dream. As they stared at each other, Sansa couldn’t help but remember their very first kiss. How scared she had been of the feeling that came over her then. Never did she expect that such a short time later, she would be standing next to the same man, under the same tree, in a pure white dress. It was the first time she had seen him without his crutches as he stood there, looking at her. He had healed so unbelievably quickly, even Maester Luwin couldn’t explain it. He wasn’t happy about his limp, even though Sansa knew it was so barely noticeable. It didn't hinder his strength at all, but he still whined about it. _Ugly_ and _slow_ , he would say, even though he was truly neither. He was the most perfect man she had ever known. Perfect for her in every way imaginable.

Standing there under the red leaves next to the man she loved was all she ever wanted out of a wedding. Even though only half of her family was standing there with her, it almost felt like the rest them were there. Her father. Arya. Bran. Lady. Even Jon from up at the Wall. Her heart pounded hard when Rickon stepped forward to take the Stark cloak from her shoulders. When Sandor replaced it with his own, a strange warmth spread throughout her. Everything felt so perfectly right in that moment and Sansa knew she had never been more at peace in all of her life.

She found the cloak in her chest now and picked it out to examine it once more. Even though it was made quickly, Sansa had never been so pleased with her own hard work.

Almost as soon as she made the deal with Robb, she knew was she was going to do. After letting herself have a brief, surreal moment to celebrate with her new betrothed, her little brother, and her best friend, Sansa was digging through the bag she had brought to Deepwood. His old white Kingsguard cloak. He had wrapped her in it in King’s Landing. She had huddled underneath it during the Battle of the Blackwater and barely let go of it since. It only made sense to turn that exact fabric into his cloak of protection for her.

It was a crazy, confusing, rushed time, but every moment was perfect. Word spread about the castle soon enough. Sometimes when they were together, people would congratulate them on the news. It was only ever directed toward Sansa as everyone tried to avoid her betrothed’s gaze. More than kind words, though, they received looks and not-so-secret glances. It was like when she had first brought Sandor home, and people had to get used to seeing him follow her everywhere. Only this time it was worse. They looked at her in confusion, bewilderment and sometimes even pity. But after a week or so it finally, thankfully, started to slow down.

She still smiled when she thought of when Mallory had first found out. It was the second morning after they had returned. Mallory hadn’t been there the day before, and Sansa didn’t ask where she was. Anna already knew when she arrived, and was one of the few who offered her honest, pleasant words of congratulations.

“How do you think you’ll wear your hair, Princess?” Anna asked her as she brushed it through. They talked about the topic for a few minutes, Shae chiming in here and there. She hadn’t even thought of Mallory until she spoke.

“What are you talking about?” She asked, her brow furrowed as Sansa could see in the reflection of the mirror.

“For the wedding, of course.” Anna said, cheerfully.

Mallory was silent for a moment, before she asked, “What wedding?”

“Oh. You haven’t heard?” Anna hmmed, still brushing Sansa’s hair. “I find _that_ hard to believe.”

Shae laughed lightly and Sansa tried hard not to. Instead she found Mallory’s eyes in the reflection and held her there. She didn’t even hesitate. “Sandor Clegane and I are to be married.”

The look of shock on Mal’s face was absolutely priceless, her mouth hung wide open for a moment before she could finally form a word. “ _What?_ ”

“And they are taking over the Dreadfort - in just a few months.” Anna peeped. “Isn’t that right princess?”

Sansa nodded. “It is.”

“ _The Hound?”_ Mallory nearly shouted. “ _Why?”_

Sansa remained calm and tried not to smile too much. She turned in her chair and gripped her seatback to look Mallory right in the eye. “Well...because I love him. If you must know.”

“You _love_ him?” She spat out, her eyes wide and wild. She flung her arm out to the side, pointing directly at Shae. “But he’s fucking _her_!”

Shae sputtered out a laugh while Anna reprimanded Mallory for her language, but Sansa just grinned, raising her eyebrows. “No, Mallory.” She couldn’t help the way her smile widened. “He’s not.”

Mal froze and visibly stopped breathing and Sansa knew she finally understood her. Sansa turned back around to face the looking glass, resuming her conversation with Anna. From time to time, she glanced at Mallory as she worked. She nearly walked into Shae twice and dropped a jug of water right out of her hands with her distracted and baffled behavior. It was later decided that Anna would join her at the Dreadfort to become her head maid in Shae’s place. Mallory would remain at Winterfell.

Sansa and Sandor respected the wishes of her mother and Robb, making sure they weren’t alone at any point of the day before they were married. Sandor complained openly in front of Rickon when he accompanied them, saying this was too little too late, but Sansa begged him to humor her family for the two short weeks. So it was with Roslin sitting close by or Rickon listening in that they had the conversations that would affect the rest of their lives.

Their children would be called Stark, Sandor had decided. He was adamant about it, actually. Sansa tried to come up with a mix of their names, but Sandor just laughed when she tried to tell him. Eventually, she had to admit that any combination would be pretty ridiculous. Reluctantly, she agreed with him. Their children would be called Stark and that was the end of it.

But Sansa didn’t want to lose his family’s history all together. She told Sandor of her plan for his old cloak and asked if he would like to see her idea of what their new sigil would look like. After agreeing with a knowing smirk to her using the cloak, he waved her off, saying something akin to not caring if it was a _buggering kitten_ that she chose, “So long as it’s you I get to wrap up in it.”

After reassuring her decisions with Robb, Roslin and Rickon, she got right to work. She had the cloak cleaned once more, and then dyed, Stark grey. She ordered a fine black leather and decided on a small swatch of a thick, bright red satin.

She ran her fingers over the careful stitching, now, as she held it once more, remembering his face the first time she had shown it to him.

“It’s us.” He muttered, looking at her then in disbelief.

Sansa bit her lip and nodded. "Better than a buggering kitten?"

Sandor didn’t seem to care in that moment that they were being chaperoned by Rickon. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her flush against his side as he sat, still admiring her work. The bold, black profile of his snarling hound’s helm. The bright and eye catching little red bird perched atop it’s nose. Sansa just watched Sandor, trying to hide the stupid grin on her face. He looked up at her then, his eyes thoughtful. “It’s ours. Not your brother’s. Not my brother’s. Ours.”

Everything finally fell into place the very moment he placed the cloak on her shoulders. He had kissed her when the time came, and it was chaste, but warm and welcome after so long a time without being able to touch him. Knowing that her family and friends had just seen her kiss Sandor Clegane filled her with such an indescribable happiness as she looked upon her husband for the very first time.

The evening after the ceremony was spent in dinner like any other night. Only Sansa had requested that Shae, Osha, Brienne, and Maester Luwin join them at the table as well. And lemon cakes for dessert, of course. It was a little awkward when they all sat down together, but Rickon was an expert at easing the tension in a room. Soon, it turned out to be a comfortable night, filled with warm conversation and a comfortable, contented atmosphere. Sansa could barely contain her state of elation when Robb invited his new goodbrother to sit at the family table. Being able to sit next to him at dinner with her family that evening was all she wanted. Being able to hold his hand openly in front of everyone there was an extra treat that she hadn’t anticipated. Sandor was quiet at the dinner though, and he had barely touched his food or wine. She took it just to mean that he was uncomfortable in the setting. _He has the rest of his life to get used to it, that’s all._

When Sansa leaned back in her chair, filled with happiness and lemon cakes, Rickon tittered from across the table, getting everyone’s attention. “And you’re sure you don’t wish to have a traditional bedding ceremony Sansa?”

“Rickon!” Her mother yelled from the other end of the table.

Sandor spoke up next to her. “We don’t have the guests for such nonsense.”

Rickon grinned at him. “Oh I know where we can get them. We’ve got a hall full of our men and women enjoying their regular evening meal. I’m sure they would appreciate to have at least a small part in the festivities!”

Sansa cleared her throat. “You mean to ask me if I want to be stripped, pinched and groped by a group of drunken Northmen?” Sandor’s grip on her hand tightened when she said the words. She brought her wine to her lips, to hide her smirk. “I’m good on that, Rickon. Thank you.”

So it was alone that she and Sandor retired to their new temporary room when the evening had ended. It was the first time either of them had seen the room they were to occupy for the next few months. It was arranged beautifully for their wedding night. The fire was bright and crackling in the hearth. Tall candles were hung on the wall and arranged around the room, giving off a warm, peaceful glow. The bed was large, piled high in cozy furs and covers. Covers that Sansa wanted to jump into with her husband. Covers that she knew would be lying on the floor before long. She bit her lip and turned to face him.

He was watching her, a worried look still on his face. “I’m sorry we couldn’t have a big wedding.”

Sansa narrowed her eyes at him _. Is that what this mood is about?_ She relaxed a little and started to take the pins out of her hair, taking down the braid that Anna had wrapped up and around her head. “I didn’t want one, Sandor. I made that clear to Robb.” Sandor sighed heavily, pouring himself a cup of wine from the table in the front of the room. He still didn’t seem to relax, so she decided to explain further. “I just…all I wanted was for you to sit at the table next to me.” He squinted at her, taking a long drink from his cup, letting her continue. She took a step forward toward him, pulling her hair loose out of its braid. “You know, you never have to stand behind me again. But next to me, where you belong.”

She watched Sandor swallow his wine, downing the rest of his cup before he put it down on the table. “Mmm. Might be that I’ll miss that view I had from standing behind you.”

Sansa let out a scandalized gasp, swatting at her husband. Sandor chuckled low in his throat, catching her wrist in his hand and gathering her up in his arms.

It was the first time they were truly alone since they had returned from Deepwood, and suddenly Sansa was almost _nervous_. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart started to pound in her ears as she waited for him to kiss her. But he didn’t. He just brought his hand up to her face, and looked at her, so serious all of a sudden.

She swallowed. “What’s wrong?” Her voice sounding small and far away with her nerves.

The back of his knuckles brushed her cheekbone and she leaned into the touch. “I just keep thinking someone is going to come in here and take you away from me. Like this was all a fucking jape.”

“Sandor. Don’t be ridiculous.” She might have laughed if he didn’t look so serious. Instead she reached forward and touched his face, the scared side. “I’m here.” She brought her hand down to his arm that was around her waist and squeezed him. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Sandor shook his head and she barely heard him when he said, “Can’t be real.”

“This _is_ real.” Sansa bit her lip and looked up at him through her lashes. “I’m yours, Sandor.” He opened his hand when she said his name and held her face in his palm, his fingers pushing into her hair. She reached up and circled his wrist with both of her hands. “I always have been, haven’t I?”

“Been what?” He seemed distracted now, pulling her flush against him.

Sansa smiled. “Yours. I’ve always been yours.”

Sandor’s lip turned up at the corner as his eyes refocused onto hers. “You are my wife.” He said it like he was trying to convince himself.

“I am your wife.” She repeated, smiling at the fluttering feeling she felt in her belly at the word. “And you are my husband.”

Sandor nodded soberly before slowly moving in close to finally, rightfully, claim what had truly always been his.

The two weeks without him leading up to the wedding had been difficult, but in a way she was glad of it. The nights they spent together in the wheelhouse on the way from Deepwood were quiet, slow, and due to the fact that they were on wheels, they did their best not to move more than they absolutely had to. But this night, their wedding night, was unlike any other experience they shared before. They took their time with each other, undressing one another slowly, taking full advantage of the time they were given. She couldn’t take her hands off of him, she couldn’t close her eyes. With every touch from him, every kiss, it felt like it was the first time again. Only she wasn’t nervous this time. She wasn’t scared. She was entirely and utterly happy.

Sansa wasn’t sure why it felt so different, until she realized – they weren’t doing anything wrong. Everyone knew they were there and everyone was more or less fine with it. They wouldn’t have to hide anymore. They wouldn’t have to lie. In their marriage bed, loving each other - this was exactly where they were both supposed to be.

-

She didn’t think of it when her breasts became sensitive. She thought it was just her moonblood coming again - but then it didn’t. The morning after she thought of it, she woke up with a nausea that she hadn’t felt since seeing Gawen’s grave. She slipped out from under Sandor’s arm and scurried over to the privy just in time for her to lose her dinner from the evening before.

She had to count back. The last moonblood she had was on the way to Deepwood the first time. _Has it really been that long?_ Her eyes widened when she realized it. She had to cover her mouth to stop from yelling out. _I’m pregnant! I’m pregnant! I’m going to have a baby!_ Sansa gasped under her hand and whispered to herself. “We’re going to have a baby.”

Other than discussing the family name of their eventual children, she and Sandor hadn’t spoken about the possibility since that afternoon in the wolfswood. They’d been too busy, too ridiculously happy to even think about anything other than the fact that they were actually married. She decided not to wake him then, as she left the privy. She wanted to find Roslin, and find out if she definitely was pregnant to begin with.

Roslin brought her to Maester Luwin and he confirmed it easily enough. She _was_ most definitely pregnant. Roslin made a similar sound to the one Sansa had made earlier and Sansa just giggled in the strangest, most giddy way imaginable.

She glanced at Maester Luwin, who seemed to be just as happy as the two of them. “From all of your symptoms, I would estimate you to be over a month pregnant. Two months, perhaps.” Sansa’s eyes widened and the smile died on her face as the old man continued. “Yet, you’ve only been married two weeks.”

 _Shit. Sansa, you idiot._ Usually, she could count on Roslin to help her out of a hole such as this, but one glance at the queen and Sansa knew she was just as lost for words.

The silenced deepened as Maester Luwin squinted at her. If he was right, that would place the conception at Deepwood. The night with the broken bed. The night he told her he loved her. _Of course. Of course it has to be that bloody perfect and ruin everything at the same time!_

She looked back at Maester Luwin, feeling the unmistakable heat of redness creeping to her face. He still squinted at her, but slowly, a small knowing smile appeared on his lips. “Although… I could be mistaken. Perhaps it is just two weeks…” He shrugged and turned away, fiddling with the instruments on his counter.

Roslin laughed lightly, breaking the tension in the room and Sansa let out a breath. “Thank you Maester Luwin.” She heard herself say.

She knew from all that training in the citadel, all those years serving House Stark, from helping her mother through five pregnancies, that he knew exactly what he was talking about. But of course he knew better than to try and shame her. He loved her too, and Sansa took his willingness to appear ignorant on the matter as a conformation of that fact.

Roslin took the time to babble excitedly about being pregnant at the same time, about their children growing up together to be as close as siblings, she was sure. “And Sandor will be the most incredible father! You can see it now, the way he cares for Rickon so well.”

Sandor. _Sandor._ He was probably just waking up now, he would worry where she was. She would have to tell him. She could picture it just then, his reaction. She was sure he would be more than pleased with the news. She smiled, thinking of how he would probably dote on her as her belly grew. He wouldn’t let her lift a finger. He probably would be afraid to touch her even…

“Oh.” _No. No this won’t be good at all._

“What is it?” Roslin asked. “Don’t you think he will be happy?”

Sansa nodded solemnly, still thinking it through. “He’ll be happy to have a baby, I’m sure of it. But…”

Roslin took her hand. “Tell me.”

Sansa swallowed. _This is going to be embarrassing._ “Can I ask you a favor, the both of you?” Maester Luwin turned around to face her, nodding along with Roslin. “Could we… keep it a secret? Just between us? I…I’m not ready to tell Sandor. For just a few weeks.”

“Why would you want to do that?” Roslin knitted her brow together. “Won’t he want to know?”

“Yes. But…” _Gods, how do I explain this?_ “He’ll change toward me. I know he will. He’ll treat me like I’m…like I’m made of glass and I don’t want that. Not yet. We’ve only just gotten married and well…” The blush appeared more quickly on her face this time. “I wouldn’t want anything to change so quickly. Not just yet.”

There was a brief moment of silence where Sansa thought they didn’t quite understand her meaning. _Gods please don’t make me have to explain it in more detail!_ But then Roslin laughed and Maester Luwin patted her hand. “Of course child.”

Sansa let out a breath and a nervous laugh. “Thank you.”

Maester Luwin nodded with a smile. “Although, when you are ready to tell him, be sure to say that it is perfectly healthy to continue on in your… routine, even in your condition.”

Sansa did manage to keep it a secret too, from Sandor at least. It was only a few days before Shae noticed. She was helping her with a bath one day as Sansa babbled on about her friend’s wedding plans.

Shae interrupted her. “You’re pregnant?”

Sansa looked down at her belly with wide eyes. _I can’t be showing already!_ She wasn’t, though. Her belly was flat as usual.

Shae seemed to notice her confusion. “Your tits. They’re getting bigger.”

Sansa gasped! “Shae!”

Shae shrugged. “They are!”

Sansa had to explain her reasons not to tell Sandor, albeit more freely with Shae. Her friend just laughed, which only made Sansa blush more, but thankfully she agreed with her on the matter.

Her mother was next to realize, for the same reason it seemed, just the next day. She wore a dress that was probably a little too tight around the chest, especially now. When Catelyn finally talked to her about it, she had to make up an excuse as to why she had yet to tell Sandor.

She felt a little guilty keeping it from him, but for those couple weeks, the reward was greater than the risk. Her now daily episodes of nausea woke her up long before Sandor did. He was sleeping better than ever before now, even if it was too small. She was having a larger bed built for them at the Dreadfort - one where his feet wouldn’t hang off the edge. She made it back in bed in time to slip under his arm again before he even realized she was gone. She had to restrain herself at times from putting her hand on her belly when she was with him, leaving that for when she was alone or with Roslin. There were a few times when she very nearly slipped when they were alone, thinking on names or whether it would be a boy or a little girl. But when she suddenly went silent and he narrowed his eyes at her, she found it easy just to silence any imposing questions with a kiss.

She went almost three weeks this way, until one terrible morning. She and Sandor had been up half the night, still enjoying their newly-wedded bliss, so she didn’t wake up with enough time to it to the privy. She just managed to escape his hold to lose her dinner right over the edge of the bed. She got up and scrambled to the privy to finish, but not before waking Sandor up.

“Little bird?” She heard him as he roused from bed.

Sansa moaned, but whether it was from the nausea or the fact that she was finally found out, she wasn’t sure. She heard him get out of bed and pad over to the privy. He opened the door without a second thought to find her kneeling over the hole in the wood. _It’s not_ the _most embarrassing way he’s found me, at least._

“What the fuck happened?” He looked furiously worried, in a way that only he could. She couldn’t find it in herself to answer him. But then, the look of realization that crossed his features was unmistakable. His eyes became soft, but only for a moment, before they hardened again. “How long have you known?”

“Almost three weeks.” She murmured, wiping the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. Sandor just blinked before stepping forward. He bent down and scooped her up in his arms. “What are you doing?” He ignored her and just carried her back to the bed. She just watched as he moved in complete silence. She was sure he was angry by the way he wouldn’t look her in the eye. He just arranged her in the bed, propping her up against the pillows and tucking her underneath a fur, covering her nakedness. He looked at the mess she made on the floor.

“Don’t clean that up!” She yelled. But he found some rags and did anyway.

She bent over to help him but he lightly pushed her away. “Don’t move.”

“What? Why?” She tried to get up but he pushed her back, impossibly gently. _Oh gods. It’s already happening._

His voice was quiet. “You’re not leaving this bed.”

“ _What!_ Have you lost your mind!”

“You’re pregnant, Sansa. And you’re sick.”

“I’ve been sick every morning Sandor and you never noticed. Why should you treat me any differently now? Do you expect me to stay here for another six months?”

“Six mon-“ He stopped, and his eyes darkened in an instant and he roared at her. “We’re having a baby in six months and you haven’t told me!”

Sansa cringed. “I’ve only known a few weeks! And I knew you would react like this!”

“You have no right! I should have known from the start!”

Just then there was a knock on the door. “Is everything alright in there?” It was Roslin.

“Go away!” He barked at the same time she peeped, “Come in!”

The queen listened to Sansa, thankfully. “What is going on in here?” Roslin asked, poking her head inside her head in. “Oh!” Roslin covered her eyes with her hand. “I’m sorry!”

Sansa looked over to Sandor, standing there only loosely clad in his breeches, his broad chest bare. He grumbled and bounded over to the other side of the bed, furiously tossing his discarded tunic over his head.

Sansa smacked her hands against the bed at her sides. “He knows.”

Roslin’s mouth turned into a perfect circle. “Oh!”

“I told you.” Sansa whined. “I told you this would happen!”

Sandor spun back on her. “ _She_ knows?”

“Of course she knows! And you can open your eyes, Roslin.” Sansa sat up, clutching the covers to her naked chest. “Please. Get my mother. Get Maester Luwin. They need to make him see sense.”

The queen nodded frantically, before running out the way she came to do as she was bid.

Sansa was only alone with her husband for about a minute, but they managed to nearly shake the stones loose in the walls with the way they shouted at each other.

She barely even noticed when her mother and Maester Luwin came in, looking flushed and terribly concerned. For some reason Rickon was there too, looking entertained as he stood near the door with Shaggy.

“Sandor. You need to let her up go on about her day.” Roslin tried.

“Her grace is right.” Maester Luwin added. “Sansa is perfectly healthy. There is no reason to confine her to the bed. Besides her morning sickness, nothing has truly changed. I already told her so weeks ago.”

Catelyn stood in the corner silently watching with a smug look on her face. Sandor paced the room like a caged animal. He didn’t seem to be pleased that she had called in support, but Sansa knew that it was her only option.

“You knew Cersei when she was pregnant.” Sansa tried. “Did she stay in bed for six bloody months? Did Margaery?”

“Don’t compare yourself to them. You’re different! You’re fragile! You’re…you’re…” He couldn’t find the words, and wouldn’t have had a chance to speak if he had.

“You love her.” Catelyn sounded from the door, her voice loud, confident and clear. She took a step forward as she took command of everyone in the room. “And you want her to be well, and healthy.”

Sandor looked taken aback, but not for long. “Aye. And she’s got no sense in hiding the truth from me. I could have bloody well hurt her.”

As far as Sansa was concerned, this may have been their first true conversation her husband and mother had. Given the fact that it was laced with Sandor’s furious tone and cursing, she was shocked to see her mother so composed. She just sat back against the pillows watching in awe as it transpired.

“You couldn’t have and you know it.” Catelyn said. “Whether intentionally or otherwise, you would never let any harm come to Sansa.”

Sandor growled. “You don’t know-“

“You aren’t giving her enough credit.” Catelyn cut him off. “To my recollection, it was Sansa who saved your life as your tent burned in the fire. Sansa, who made it all the way to Deepwood Motte in the middle of winter to come and find you. And you think her fragile?” She felt her heart warm at the thought that her mother was saying these things that she had done as if they were _commendable_. It just made no sense!

Sandor glared at Catelyn, but had nothing to say in return. _If looks could kill._

Catelyn went on, raising her eyebrow. “It makes me wonder, Clegane, how well you truly know my daughter at all.” Only then did Sansa realize that her mother wasn’t feeling smug, she was _amused_. This was fun for her, something that Sandor must have noticed. Sansa could see it in her eyes now as she smiled at him. _Does she think it’s…endearing… for him to treat me like this? Does she finally see that he truly does love me?_ Sansa could only hope that was the truth.Sandor stormed out of the room then, Rickon and Shaggy following in his wake.

Sansa decided to tell Robb that afternoon, and he pulled together an spur-of-the-moment celebratory meal for his bannermen in honor of her announcement. Whereas Sansa felt like she was beaming the entire night, Sandor only gave a curt nod to those that offered them congratulations. Sansa tried to ignore it, she tried to be happy with the fact that he finally knew. All she needed to do was apologize for not telling him straight away and then everything would go back to normal. She knew exactly what she was going to say, but she never got the chance.

When they walked back to their room in silence, he mumbled out an excuse and left her there alone with her thoughts. That’s when everything changed.

Sandor would leave their dinners early most nights, always excusing himself. Sansa gave embellished excuses for him, not wanting her mother or brother to look at her with any trace of ‘I told you so’ on their faces. She would follow her mother to her solar or return to her empty room on her own. Sandor was staying out so late that she couldn’t stay awake for his return. When she would finally wake in the morning, he was never there, though he did leave her a glass of water, a clean cloth, and a basin to be sick in. Her nausea was finally starting to improve a bit, but it was little relief, given the feeling that had begun to replace it.

Sansa had never been more restless in her life. She had never felt such a need for him then she did in that time. The fact that he wasn’t there for her was all the more infuriating. She talked to Roslin about it, red faced all the while. The queen returned her blush with a modest chuckle, explaining to Sansa that she was currently experiencing the same thing. Only it wasn’t such a problem for her, that much was clear.

Roslin squinted at her, thinking. “I wish he could talk to Robb.”

Sansa hummed. “Probably not the best idea though. Could you imagine it? My brother telling my husband that his sister needs a good fu-“

“Sansa!” Roslin dove forward and covered Sansa’s mouth with her hand before dissolving into a fit of giggles.

With spending time with Roslin and the babies, Shae, and even her mother, it was almost easy to forget how miserable she was when she laid alone in her bed at night. After the first few nights alone, Sansa took to sleeping without a shift, hoping that he would find her there when he returned, wake her up and end her suffering. But if the way she woke up was any sign of Sandor’s thoughts upon finding her there, she didn’t hold out much hope. He had taken to creating a barrier of pillows between the two of them again, the furs and covers pulled high up to her chin.

When that didn’t work, she was even so desperate as to reach for Sandor under the table one evening at dinner with her family. She traced her nails over his thigh, feeling his muscle tense beneath her fingers. Just with that small touch, she could feel a warmth pooling between her legs. She reached just a little further, praying that he would let her _just_ …

He pushed his chair back with such a force that Sansa had to grab onto the table with her other hand to keep her balance, or else she might have fallen onto the floor into the spot he so hastily vacated.

“Excuse me.” He bent his head at the others in the room who stared at him with such wide eyes before bounding out and down the hall on his own.

“Goodness, Sansa.” Her mother gasped. “What is going on with Sandor?”

Sansa’s face felt like it was aflame and, for once, she had no response. _That’s it._ She wasn’t going to play this game any longer. He was being enormously childish and she had had enough of it. She spent the evening in her mother’s solar as she usually tended to do, but when the others went to bed, Sansa went in search of Shae. She usually spent her evenings with Conall in Wintertown, but Sansa was glad to find the girl in her own chambers that night. As soon as she explained he frustrations to her, she was near tears by the end.

Shae narrowed her eyes at her. “I know exactly what you need.” Shae dashed over to a small wooden chest at the end of her bed, digging through countless fine and flimsy fabrics of the likes that she had never seen.

Sansa knelt to pick one up off the floor and felt her eyes widen as she realized what she was holding. “You have to be joking. Where did you get all of these?”

Shae chuckled, “From your _last_ husband, of course.” Sansa didn’t know how to respond to that. She was happy that Shae was able to find happiness in a good man of the North, but sometimes she still couldn’t get the image of Shae and Tyrion out of her head. Of Shae crying in her arms when she finally told her at the Twins. Shae came to her then, breaking her from her reverie. “Here.” She had a pale blue fabric in her hand and a bittersweet look in her eye. “Tyrion’s last gift to me.”

“Oh.” Sansa reddened, feeling a little awkward.

“Never had a chance to wear it. Wouldn’t feel right to wear it for Conall.” Shae eyed the fabric for another moment before holding it out for Sansa to see it fully. “Take it. A belated wedding gift.”

Sansa felt her brow furrow. “Are you sure?”

Shae nodded, smiling like herself again. “Don’t worry. You won’t be wearing it for long anyway.”

Shae helped her undress. Once she was down to her small clothes she put her hands up for the shift to slip over her head. Shae just shook her head, pointing at her small clothes. Sansa rolled her eyes and worked on the laces until they fell to the floor. As Shae slipped the fabric over her head, Sansa had another thought. “Won’t this be a little short on me?”

“Shorter on you then it would have been on me, that’s for sure. But that’s the whole point!” Shae tugged it down over her hips and Sansa looked down.

“Seven hells.” The entirety of her chest was bare to the world, the fine lace neckline barely reaching high enough to cover her nipples. Sansa pulled at it, trying to cover herself a little better. But Shae swatted her hands away, tugging the neckline back down where it wanted to go. Sansa moaned, regretting this decision entirely as Shae dragged her to the looking glass. Shae helped take the few pins out of her hair and arranged her locks neatly to one side, cascading down her chest. The shift, if one could even call it that, was too short indeed. It barely covered her bottom, let alone her thighs. It was sleeveless, leaving her arms bare and prone to little bumps from the cold. The neckline was made of a fine lace, low and tight against her already engorged breasts. With the delicacy of the fabric added to the fact that she was, at the moment, significantly more filled out than Shae, the shift was nearly see-through.

“What’s the point? This isn’t leaving anything to the imagination!” Sansa threw her hands out to her sides.

Shae whined, making a mocking frown. “Oh! I’m a poor little princess. My big, scarred husband is too afraid to touch me because I’m pregnant. He hasn’t fucked me in over a week!”

“Shae!” Sansa shouted, putting her hands on her hips. “Don’t make fun of me. I look ridiculous!”

Shae rolled her eyes and forced Sansa to look back in the mirror. “You look absolutely beautiful. Idiot.”

Sansa sighed and made herself look past her shame and embarrassment until she was finally able to see what Sandor might notice. She truly _did_ look different. Her usually slender and sharp angles had filled out slightly, her hips even more shapely than usual. Her breasts were larger, but the darkening skin around her nipples was not nearly as unseemly as she thought. Her face didn’t look so narrow either. And she felt silly thinking it, but her skin _did_ appear to glow.

Sansa sighed and turned to Shae, squinting at her. “Fine.”

Shae sent her on her way then, not without a robe to cover herself and good smack on her behind.

“Stupid…stupid. He won’t even be there. He won’t even notice.” She muttered to herself the whole way back to the room she shared with her husband. She got there, already convincing herself it was a mistake and closed the door behind her with closed eyes and a huff.

“ _Fuck_.”

Sansa’s eyes snapped open. “Oh.”

Sandor was there, staring at her with wide eyes, standing in front of the fire in the darkness. His chest was bare and the laces of his breeches lose as he held them in his hand. He was undressing for the night. Sansa swallowed. _Just in time_. She didn’t let herself think for another moment. She let go of the robe she was clutching closed against her chest and shrugged it off of her shoulders.

Sandor almost visibly deflated in front of her, his shoulders going slack, he nearly let go of his grip on his breeches. She took his speechlessness as a good sign and stepped forward tentatively.

He blinked at her, trying to regain his composure, and failing miserably. “Sansa.” He rasped out.

“I need you Sandor. Don’t try to stop me.” She stepped closer, watching his eyes rove over her body, already knowing exactly what he saw. She felt an all new confidence radiating through her as she looked up at him, reaching high on her toes to wrap her arms around his neck.

He reached up and gripped her arms, and her stomach flipped with the anticipation. “No Sansa.” He pushed her away, frustratingly gentle, even though she pushed back against him with all of her might. Sandor shook his head and said it again. “No.”

Sansa took a step back, bringing her arms down to her sides, feeling like she was a speck of dirt on the floor. _That’s it. It’s true._ She was sure, now, of his reasons for acting this way. He didn’t want to be a father. He didn’t want the baby. He was probably regretting ever marrying her. All of a sudden, it was just too much. She heard herself sobbing before she even felt it happening.

“I just…” She choked out, feeling like a fool, standing there in such a ridiculous outfit. She crossed her arms over her chest, looking up at him. “I know we never talked about it really, but I just always assumed you would be _happy_ to have a child with me.”

“ _What_?” Sandor had started shaking his head before he interrupted her thoughts, a bewildered expression on his face. He stepped forward and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Sansa, is that what you think? That I don’t want this baby?”

Sansa swallowed, “It’s the first time you are even talking about it with me. I thought… I thought you were, disgusted by me.”

“ _Disgusted_? Are you buggering mad? _Look at you_ , woman!” His fingers in her shoulders gripped into her tighter before he took a breath to calm down.

Sandor closed his eyes and let out the breath, but he didn’t let go of her, so she pressed on. “Why won’t you touch me then?”

He kept his eyes closed and Sansa’s tears finally slowed. “I don’t want to hurt you.” He nearly whispered. “I don’t want to hurt the baby.”

Sansa just couldn’t comprehend. She sniffed and wiped at her nose. “I just don’t understand. Everyone told you that it’s safe. Roslin, mother, Maester Luwin…what do you possibly think is going to happen?”

He ground his teeth together, trying to avoid her eye. “I’ll hurt it. Whether now when it’s part of you or later. I’ll hurt it I know I will. I’m no good with delicate things.”

“Sandor.” She squinted her eyes at him, not believing what he was actually saying. “You are the most gentle man I’ve ever known. You’ve never hurt me. Not even once. Am I not delicate?”

“Not as much as you once were. Not as much as the babe will be.”

Hearing him finally talking about their baby gave her the warmest feeling. She couldn’t help but smile, despite the tortured expression on his face. “Do you think about the baby often?”

He didn’t return her smile, but his eyes did seem to soften, even if it was just a little bit. “Almost as much as I think of you.”

She put her hand on her stomach. “We’re one in the same now, I suppose.” She looked up at him and watched as his eyes widened and followed her hand as it moved over her belly. “Feel.” She turned to the side so he could access it better. “Come on.” She let go, but only to grab his hand and pull it close to her when he wouldn’t do it on his own. He hovered over her belly so lightly she could barely feel it. She laughed and pressed her hand on top of his, pushing his palm down on her hardening flesh. When he realized he wasn’t going to break her, he let his hand move over her stomach in a slow circle, bunching up the fabric of her shift along with it. She watched him with the same amazement with which he studied her. For a moment, all there was to hear was his low breathing and the crackle of the fire, until she whispered. “That’s your baby.”

She’d never seen the look on his face that he was wearing in that moment. She didn’t even know how to describe it. Suddenly, any bit of laughter was gone. Her voice was quiet when she spoke, but he was close enough to hear. “Are you happy?”

He brought his other arm behind her and around her other side to pull her close to him. She tilted her head up to kiss him. He nodded as he pressed into her lips. Until that moment, she never realized she how badly she needed the conformation of the fact.

It had been so long since he held her this close, Sansa got a little over eager, flinging her arms around his neck. He grunted as their teeth clashed, but lifted her to him all the same. He didn’t crush her body to his as he usually did, but Sansa thought this, at least, was an improvement to the nothing she had gotten used to over the past few weeks. Maybe it was that she caught him off guard, but she sent him stumbling backward and crashing onto the bed behind him, successfully winning the war she had been secretly waging against him since he found out. It didn’t truly feel real until that moment when her fears finally dissipated. Shae was right, though - the shift didn’t last very long at all.

-

That was nearly a month ago now, and it had still taken some time, but their relationship had gone almost back to normal. There was just the little addition that neither of them complained about; the little bump that had started to grow in her lower belly. She put her hand over her stomach and felt her lips turn up into a smile.

The door opened loudly behind her admitting a grumbling Sandor. “Was wondering where you’d run off to.” He said, kicking off his boots.

Sansa raised her eyebrows at him. “Take part in the bedding ceremony then?”

Sandor barked out a laugh. “The girl took off her own dress before any of them could get a hand on her.”

 _Of course she did._ Sansa shook her head, feeling her face warm, imagining the scene Shae must have caused. “Conall’s going to have his hands full, that’s for sure.”

Sandor laughed at her words as Sansa reddened even more. He looked at her then, a grin still on his face, but his eyes were set on hers. “He’s not the only one.” She let him look her up and down, waiting for the inevitable attack. “What are you holding onto that for?”

Sansa looked down at her hands. She was still holding the cloak from their wedding. “Oh! Just… reminiscing I suppose.”

“Wishing you had a wedding more like this one?”

Sansa shook her head. “Not in the slightest. Besides, you danced with me tonight.”

Sandor rolled his eyes half-heartedly, clearly not interested in talking anymore. He gestured to the cloak in her hands. “Put that down, girl.”

“Why?” Sansa asked, clutching it tighter in her hands. “Don’t you like it anymore?”

“You know I do. It’s just in the way.” Sandor stepped forward and took the cloak out of her hands, dropping it right on the floor.

“Hey!” She yelled, attempting to swat at him. But he didn’t give her time to protest. He took her from under the arms, lifted her and tossed her onto the bed. He landed on top of her, catching himself just inches away from her body before crushing his mouth to hers. Sansa waited for the day that she would get so big that they wouldn’t be able to get this close. But she figured that they would find another way. In addition to the practicality of it all, she was waiting for the day that she would lose her need for this, for him. But it hadn’t come yet. And for some reason, she was fairly confident that it wouldn’t happen at all.

-

The morning was cold, but the sun was bright and warm on her face. Their small traveling party was preparing for the trip in the yard. She was happy to see that her family, including Shae and Conall, had come out so early to see them off to their new home.

Sandor complained about her wanting to ride rather than travel in the wheelhouse, but she was adamant. She’d had enough of that thing and was looking forward to the fresh air. When the horses were brought out though, she had a thought.

“Wait.” She said, turning to Sandor suddenly. “What if I fall off again?” She chewed her lip, looking down at her belly, then back up at Sandor. “Do you think Stranger will be able to bear all three of us?”

A slow smirk spread across his face. They were married now, and though it might be odd for them to share a horse, it wouldn’t be _improper_.

“Aye, he’ll be fine.” He reached forward to her, his fingers gripping her chin. “I won’t let you fall, little bird.”

Even after everything they had been through in the few short months, Sansa couldn’t get over how good it still felt to be able to touch him, to be touched by him, and not hide it from anyone. They didn’t go around groping each other in the middle of the great hall, but it was the small affectionate touches that she loved so much. The kind Roslin and Robb shared if she looked closely enough. Sansa took to it right away, holding his hand at the table right after the wedding. She remembered how he had stiffened under her touch, but seemed to relax when he realized that they weren’t going to get in trouble, nor was she going to let go. A brush on the shoulder in passing as he sat with Rickon, gripping onto his arm taking a walk around the grounds. It took some time for him to return with his own touches, as he did now, but the feeling it left her with was worth the wait.

“Come on,” He took her by the shoulder and shuffled her gently in front of him, “time to say goodbye.”

Sansa blew out a heavy breath. She was dreading this part the most. She looked and saw her family standing there, watching - waiting for her. Everyone was wearing a soft smile, all except for Rickon who stared down at his feet, his hands gripped tightly into Shaggy’s fur at his side.

Sansa went to him first, Sandor right behind her. “You’re going to miss us, aren’t you?”

Rickon still avoided her eyes, but Sansa could see that his own were red around the rims. He shook his head minimally, “No.” He sniffed.

“Ah, little wolf.” Sandor laughed from behind her. “You’re turning into a worse liar than your sister.”

Rickon offered a small smile when Sansa laughed, but he still couldn’t look at them. Sansa turned and looked up at him, an insult poised at the ready, until something caught her eye over his shoulder. Shaggy seemed to notice at the same moment, Grey Wind too, as the wolves got up and bounded away from them.

“What…” Sansa murmured, stepping around Sandor to see what all the commotion was about. Her eyes followed across the yard to the gate where two figures had turned into three – one black, _two_ grey. The wolves snapped and jumped at each other, playfully it seemed.

“What in the seven…” Roslin sounded from behind her.

Then she saw more movement, another large figure coming through the gate. She stepped forward and saw that it was a man. A large man, a shock of black hair on his head. She squinted then, to see that he wasn’t alone. The pair passed the three wolves, Grey Wind and Shaggy too preoccupied to notice the newcomers, and they were headed right towards her. She thought the other person was a young boy at first thought with the clothes, slight frame and short hair. But as they came even closer, she saw the womanly shape, the softer features of her face – _her face_.

A strangled cry came from her mother’s throat behind her. And then Robb’s voice, soft as anything, “ _Arya?_ ”

The girl was getting closer now, a bright, beaming smile on her face. Sansa heard her own voice as she nearly screamed, “Arya!”

The smile on her sister’s face died, though she continued coming closer. Her eyes widened, her nostrils flared and an expression of absolute rage invaded her features. Arya lifted her arm and pointed at, what Sansa thought was her, until she yelled, “What the _hell_ is _he_ doing here?!” And then Arya was pulling out a sword from her belt, her eyes still fixed on Sandor behind her. Sansa turned and saw Sandor mimicking Arya, pulling his sword from his own scabbard.

“ _What?_ No!” Sansa darted forward in the gap that Arya was closing too quickly. So there she stood, four months pregnant, and the only thing standing in the way of her sister trying to kill her husband.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp! I guess we have somewhere to start for Part Two! Don’t quite know when I am going to get to it, but it WILL be done at some point in my life ha! Inspiration behind their new sigil is [here](http://www.redbubble.com/people/momothistle/works/14617153-the-hounds-helm?c=402325-game-of-thrones).
> 
> First though, I will be writing a few new SanSan fics. Next one will be called ‘On the Safest Ledge’. First chapter out in a week or so. I really hope you enjoy that one too!
> 
> I just want to thank you all so much for making this so worthwhile for me. I never knew that I could ever write so much. At times I guess, yea, I got a little windy, so I apologize. Alright and thank you for leaving kudos, for bookmarking, and for commenting. Without all of that, the hysterical conversations that took place in the comments, the friendships that I’ve made through this thing, I don’t think I would have had nearly as much fun. Most of all though, thank you for taking the time out of your lives to just read it. Thank you so so so much! Love you all! I hope to see you over at my next fic. 


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